Mating in Captivity
by kisvakondok
Summary: "You like to watch, don't you? I do too. I see it all. And I don't keep secrets. Behind every perfect facade is sex, dirt and lies. I just want to see it all crumble down and have some fun." An over-sharing voyeur shakes up the elite St. Forks high. AH
1. What we call the beginning

_"What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."_

_T.S. Eliot

* * *

_

Then Jasper stormed in. He was different. For the first time since I knew him, since he was like five, he looked like he was truly furious. Livid without even the slightest hint of the jovial, uninhibited air he always exuded. It didn't faze me like it would have once. I knew that it was all my fault and that all I was getting what was coming to me.

The reason he was here, like this is that probably Bella has spilled the beans on one or possibly all of the following:

1. That when she told me she was willing to change her college of choice for us to stay together after high school, I told her that I never really loved her or had any real feelings for her in general during the year we dated

2. That I right after I told her this I also informed her I slept with Rosalie the night before

3. That it was my fault that Rosalie got hold of her diary

4. That these events combined led her to terminate a pregnancy a month later

I know all of these sound horrible, and you think I'm an asshole and I will admit, they actually are and I am. But before you go on and judge me – which you probably have already done – think of the most horrible, evil, downright vile thing you have ever done to those you loved, even if – especially if – they didn't know about it. Would you still be able to cast the first stone?

I know you probably won't believe me when I say this, but all the while, I did have the best intentions and I did want her to be happy.

I assumed this would hurt me more than her.

I just never thought it would end like this.


	2. Update, 21st August

**Okay, people, this is the stuff I've started writing first and the one that is I'm most nervous about posting. Please give a chance to my baby whom I love so much. Also, it might be better if you press the ½ button in the upper right corner.**

**I need to thank my angel of a masterbeta, storytellerslie for her efforts, the marvelous marvar, literary genius KCerena, Savannah-vee and pre-reader h32mh32m who puts my ghetto ass Cinderella of a story in its pumpkin carriage. LiviaCullen was nice enough not to call me a dirty perv when I sent her an email full of genitalia. She rocks too. And Crispy Anakin, too, who helped with the summary. And all the people who encourage me to keep doing this; I can't thank you enough. I couldn't do this without you.**

**If you're opposed to teenagers drinking, having sex, taking drugs and if eating disorders make you cringe, you should go read something rated T. You've been warned. I am not a babysitter.**

**Twilight belongs to somebody named Stephenie. I think my inner peace would be seriously compromised with a name like that. Obviously, that ain't me.**

* * *

**The Saint Forksian Stalker**

Update

**Welcome home gilded generation!**

17:37 August 21st 2009

I know, I know. While I've been busy trying to tan without the tan lines and keeping up with RSVPs, cursive thank you notes and tennis matches, the summer's been long and hot and I've been falling behind on updates. But blame the pectorals and the abdominals! Guys leave them out there for the world to see, and that happy trail weaves its evil voodoo on your mind so that not even the breakout of WW III could distract you from finding out where it leads. Ahh, good times! BTW aren't Missoni maxi-dresses the most fabulous? Too bad that by the end of the summer every desperate little wannabe was wearing a tacky rip off. It's so sad when that happens; it makes true fashion victims cry. That is why Anna Wintour wears her glasses when you see her.

But summertime is over, and it's time to head back to the city, notre mère cruelle, mais toujours amusante, NYC awaits, so don your uniforms and get back to drama, intrigue, spewing lies and homework! I hope you got your uniforms fitted in time; it's just tacky to have them baggy and loose, only to end up looking like a third world country refugee who incidentally had time to do her makeup (Leah, I hope you're reading this). Paging fellow fashion victims, if you haven't done any shopping, now is the time to get started, because everything is going sell out by the time fashion week starts, and you don't want to end up going in last season's attire (Silvia, our heart goes out to you not really). The stock in most places looks pretty pitiful already, but if you need warning you're probably not one of us, anyway.

Thanks for the tips, you guys, most of them never fail to make me laugh! And for my fellow voodoo magic victims, I present you with a little recap of what happened during the summer.

Sightings:

Okay, I'm rarely one to say this but WHAT? WHY? HOW? WHY? I'm guessing you've already seen queen Bella's pics of her holiday in Europe, on Facebook. Or if you read _Chi_ (the Italian _Us Weekly_) you saw it there first. Why is it that a girl who has a smokin' hot blond prince, Jasper, at home goes to Europe for the summer and hangs out with two _other_ blond princes? (Albeit, they _are _real ones.) She was papped partying and then horsing around on the beach with Andrea and Pierre of Monaco. Their sister, Charlotte was there too, but she's a girl, so she doesn't count. Apparently they are all Facebook friends now. And before you ask, the answer to the big question is still no, her virtue is still intact or as intact as it ever was. **Prettyinprada** spotted her lingerie shopping in Paris with an unidentified group of girls on August 14th. She talked to them in an English accent and apparently the stuff in her basket was pretty risqu. I think we are onto something. I don't think she would want to cross into her 17th with her V-card officially intact. Our sources claim she was shaking it down the same night at L'Etoile and guess what; Tyler happened to be there too and you know how he's been known to make rich women beg. Is it time to get jealous, Jas?

Tanya is off the face of the earth. I don't think she is in that porno movie, as **essentiAlly** suggested. **Missbunnypie** swore on her black Amex it was her she spotted in Hong Kong with Analchy, the progressive semi-emo rebel quasi-rock band, name linked to their profile. If it's true, the only thing I have to say is that she has dreadful taste in music. The most feasible theory is that she was an all around party girl commuting between Dubai and Istanbul. I wonder if she had to wear a veil sometimes. Maybe that's the reason we haven't spotted her. **Da_beeouch** said she is also a pusher, dealing in synthetic drugs, mainly coke, and that for an extra 50 you can snort a line off any chosen body part. Now that I find hard to believe. She would definitely charge more. But nice try, beeouch!

The big question was, why no sighting of T and B together, the eternal BFFs? Does B know where T is? Usually they are hanging out together. Trouble in paradise? **Lacylou**suggested B caught T with Jasper but we all know that would not cause such a rift. They are probably having a catfight over some limited edition item. It will blow over before the school starts.

Rosalie and Jessica spent a month in Tuscany, sampling the Italian stud population. **Cheekychild** saw them slutting it up at the Armani bar in Milan. You go gals. God knows what I would do if I could get my hands on some DOP quality Italian man meat. Khm. I clearly suck at keeping things for myself. But I'm told Jessica cut the philandering out. I'm a bit disappointed, you want to see her let the bad girl out, but maybe next time. I'm not sure Meek Mike can keep her entertained for much longer, but it will be fun to see him try. Well, chacun voit midi à sa porte, as the French would have it.

Telling about Edward, Jasper, Emmett, Tyler and the rest of the mouth watering thieves of innumerable hearts and khm panties would be pointless. I've seen you gals at polo practices, tennis matches, hell, even croquet, standing by, always drooling at them, with your tongues hanging out. Subtlety is definitely an issue ladies, but what can I say? I'm guilty too. This is not a vice I'm going to give up any time soon. Luckily for us, the males stayed put in the Hamptons, with occasional visits to Jupiter Island for the true wasps. You gotta love Florida, babe! But I think we made sure entertainment was aplenty on our turf. Well done girls!

The Close-up was marvelous, non? Even B and R who have been lounging in Europe couldn't resist. The Company (B, R, Lauren, Jess) were spotted at R's relatives' private beach in Amagansett. No minions in sight, although Victoria and Eric were seen partying with them the day before. The party was fun, so B didn't make the minions take any clothes off, like Angela had to on her boring birthday. According to **Lacylou****,** B looked moody and R looked bloated and pissed. Typical hangover symptoms; they should've stayed inside and ordered in a masseuse and oxygen facials. Girls, you should know better. That is no way to face a new school year.

Love out to my fellow gluttonous gossips,

The Saint Forksian Stalker

**Comments:**

**1.** 17:51 August 21st 2009 **tinkerballerina**'s comment:

_Hey Forkstalker! I know for a fact the T and B had the fall-out because they were excusive lesbian lovers and T cheated. I mean HELLO! Anyone who wouldn't bag Jasper for such a long time would have to be either stupid, or a beaver enthusiast. I vote for the latter, I had Classical English lit with B and she's definitely not stupid._

19:10 August 21st 2009 **The Forksian Stalker**'s reply:

I don't know or I think part of the reason she could keep Jasper so long was that she could resist the lure of his peen. I know my jaw would/did (I'm not telling!) pop open and assume position if I'd seen it. And I don't see B and T getting it on. Sorry tinker! I'd be looking for B's transgressions through a certain French connection.

**2.** 17:56 August 21st 2009 **daddy-yo's** comment: 

_i've__ seen that crp analchy band in japan cos my GF dragged me to their concert. twas shit. that guy was so high out of his mind he started grinding up on one of the drums. if wat u say is true then T is a bigger ho than even I thought. so a pretty big ho. but i'd still do her._

19:11 August 21st 2009 **The Forksian Stalker**'s reply: 

I know you're going to get the wrong impression from this but so would I.

**3.** 19:01 August 21st 2009 **Banannana**'s comment: 

_I just want to say that I know this from a sure source, my friend knows this girl who has a friend who had sex with Jasper and Edward on the night of the Mercedes Polo challenge AT THE SAME TIME WITH BOTH OF THEM! Can you believe it? She said they both used condoms, and that Edward even talked to her after._

19:15 August 21st 2009 **The Forksian Stalker**'s reply: 

What a classy lady. One of them even talked to her after. Okay, I'm just being bitter. Actually I don't care if she was a crackwh*re from a trailerpark with three front teeth missing and her own locker at the free clinic, where the nurse practitioner burns off her genital warts one by one every week. I envy the sh*t out of that bitch. Sorry for the profanity, usually I have a better grasp. But wow, if that is true (sorry, but it seems highly suspect) then she has reached the top of that Maslow's hierarchy of needs pyramid. She has nothing to live for anymore. If only I could be so lucky.

**4.** 22:10 August 21st 2009 **spankme_bob**'scomment: 

_I'm trying to find out who you are. Since you are always going on about the sophomores (to be juniors this year), I assume you are one too. And a girl probably. But you could always turn out to be a sad sex ed teacher with no life and an unhealthy obsession with stalking young people who you have no business teaching, in fact they could probably lecture you on a few things. In any case, you are a bit sick, but very entertaining, so I thank god for you. _

_But I will find out who you are._

12:13 August 22nd 2009 **The Forksian Stalker**'s reply:

Trying is within your rights, spankme_bob, but I assure you my identity is the only secret I'm keeping, so I keep it well. You are welcome to try. However I will give you a little clue. I would not be caught dead waving a dildo around in class. Especially not for a living. I have standards. (But I have no problems adjusting them for the man meat. I'm weak like that.) And yeah, I prefer peen over poon, but that doesn't automatically make me a girl, now, does it? ;)

* * *

**the**** forkstalker**

Twitter Home:

(clue: In chronological order, start reading from the top, unlike in Twitter. The name in the front is who wrote the tweet. The one after the **@** is who that person replies to. So **The**** forkstalker @lalalady **means **the forkstalker** replies to something **lalalady** tweeted)

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **Final Friday night out before school. Keep your cells ready to hear the skinny on where my ppl @

_about__ 14 hours ago via seesmic _

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **Paging all Soho house female members. Spotted: Tyler, Ed and Em getting out of a town car @ Soho house.

_about__ 14 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**bubblesexy**** @the forkstalker **on my way, was there any girrl action going on?

_about__ 14 hours ago via web_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker @bubblesexy **no as far as I know its guys' night out. But pull out your Agent Provocateur push up just in case.

_about__ 14 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**giddyginny**** @the forkstalker **I've just seen Jasper getting out of the pool. He's here too. Looks yummy

_about__ 13 hours ago via Tweetie_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker @giddyginny **I'd kill for the view. Caring is sharing, G, give us proof, get your cam out!

_about__ 13 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **Males leaving the Soho house. Jas tanked already. I think over the summer he said something about never drinking again, go figure

_about__ 13 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **TANYA seen entering Waldorf w/ Dorian from Analchy. She had sunglasses on, and gave off rockstar vibe

_about__ 13 hours ago via seesmic _

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **Get your dancing shoes on ladies Boys arriving @ 1 Oak. Rose seen @ Kanoyama w/ unidentified hottie. Thnx **@lollypoppa**

_about__ 13 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **Im catching some smoookes outside and if u r sitting @ home not doing nothing u can read update.

_about__ 10 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **Im drunk so I take nooo serponsibility. Miss america was here w/ other celebs n she liked eddie taking her home

_about__ 10 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker** Lauren went to bathroom w/ Jas for more than 15 min I wonder what happened

_about__ 10 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker** mike dirty dancin = EPIC WIN!

_about__ 10 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker** I need to get back inside gals, rememr to take tequila from body shot. Luv ja yo

_about__ 10 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**giddyginny**** @the forkstalker **Drunken Forksianstalker = EPIC WIN!

_about__ 9 hours ago via web_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker** Crazy night, huh? I'm embarrassed by my ramblings but I can't take them back. Or wont. Whatevs.

_about__ 4 hours ago via web _

* * *

**the**** forkstalker** Anyways, recap, Eddie went home @ bout 4 w/ with beauty queen w/ Em, Mike and other floozy gals in tow

_about__ 4 hours ago via web_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **Rose got in taxi with unidentified stranger and had a really good time if I know anything about her

_about__ 4 hours ago via web_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **Now I'll go and have some yummy bellini, going for the hair of the dog that bit me treatment here

_about__ 4 hours ago via web_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker** The ladies who brunch: Rose, B, Lauren, Jess were spotted @ Oak Room. Sat brunch instead of Sunday. Why?_about__ 3 hrs ago via web_

* * *

**hobelina**** @the forkstalker **Rose was late from brunch, she seems pissed.

_about__ 3 hours ago via TweetDeck_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker @hobelina **A lousy lay will do that.

_about__ 3 hours ago via web_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **The Company seen entering Chanel on 5th.

_about__ 3 hours ago via web_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **B seen getting out of town car in front of her home w/ lots of shopping bags. She seems contemplative

_about__ 1 hour ago via seesmic_

* * *

**hobelina**** @the forkstalker **Rose's dress it was so pretty. They passed around some cell and they were looking at it, maybe pics?

_about__ half an hour ago via Tweetdeck_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **retweet: **hobelina**** @the forkstalker** Rose's dress it was so pretty. They passed around some cell and they were looking at it

_about__ 23 minutes ago via seesmic_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker @hobelina **I wonder what it was. I have it on authority that Bella likes to make videos to keep a certain person entertained

_about__ 22 minutes ago via seesmic_

* * *

**kissntella**** @the forkstalker **Just seen Eric enter Vic's house. You didn't say in ur update what the minions did in the summer

_about__ 14 minutes ago via UberTwitter_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker @kissntella **I wasn't aware people were interested. U always drill me on stuff about the Company. Ur wish is my command ;)

_about__ 13 minutes ago via seesmic_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **Lauren and Rosalie seen @ liquilterra, having smoothies and sharing a laugh. Up to no good. Keep an eye out bitches ;)

_about__ 11 minutes ago via seesmic_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **What's up with the yellow blazers? Every 2np person is wearing it. It's sad. Is it Tweety revival or something? Que horrible!

_about__ 6 minutes ago seesmic_

* * *

**the**** forkstalker **I'll update soon ladies, in the mean time, keep those tweets coming. You know you wanna.

_about__ 5 seconds ago via seesmic_

* * *

**A/N: Does buying gossip rags make you a stalker? I kinda think it does. **

**If someone has a really racy n fun question to the Forkstalker, it will totally make it into the next blog update. With an answer ;)**


	3. I fake so real, I'm beyond fake

******PLEASE READ: If you have trigger to the following: underage drinking, underage drug use, underage sex, swearing and eating disorders, please find something else to read. This is rated M for a reason as you'll see. **

**I need to thank my angel of a masterbeta, storytellerslie for her efforts, the marvelous marvar, literary genius KCerena, lie2me, Savannah-vee and pre-reader h32mh32m who puts my ghetto ass Cinderella of a story in its pumpkin carriage. And all the people who encourage me to keep doing this; I can't thank you enough. I couldn't do this without you.**

**Can you imagine owning Edward Cullen? Even for a day? I don't think I'd have time for fanfic if I did own him. I wouldn't have time for anything. But sadly he ain't mine. SM owns him and Cecily owns Gossip Girl.**

**Thanks for the reviews, I'd love some more, actually.**

* * *

_There's one advantage to being 102. There's no peer pressure._

Dennis Wolfberg

**BPOV**

_Ladies and Gentleman, we are now here__-_

No, scratch that.

_My fellow students, now that we are facing crucial decisions in our live_

Ugh. NO.

Fuck, fuckedy, fuckfuckfuck. This is not working.

I try to calm my overactive but mostly uncooperative mind by looking out my window, gazing at Central Park in hopes that some sort of inspiration will strike me. Humph. It might work better to pray for some kind of demonic possession, hoping said demon taking residence in my body would make me write perfect speeches instead of scaling walls and projectile vomiting. Hey, a girl can dream. Wow. You know things are bad when you pray for demonic possession á la _The Exorcist_. I have reached new depths of insanity, or heights, depending on how you want to look at it. All because of this stupid speech.

Compartmentalize.

I take deep breaths, counting to ten. If I don't stop this now, I'll be offering to skip fashion week, forgo all waxing and oxygen facials, just generally go all savage and cease social existence until the admission letter from my college arrives. Because it will arrive. It has to. This is a legacy. Isabella Marie Constance Higginbotham Swann will get in. This is just a formality, an exercise in the futility of bearing peer pressure and competing.

Even though all my cognitive functions are excellent, and I know this to be the truth, I have a hard time believing it. I'm starting to get restless, my heart beats slightly faster. Great, a panic attack is on the way. Apparently at the tender age of sixteen and a half I will turn into my mother, popping pills to avoid anxiety attacks concerning my inadequacy issues.

If only… No. I will not even think about Tanya. It's useless anyway, because it's not like I could get a hold of her. And even if I could, she is the last person to ask about how to avoid becoming your mother. Or a wreck. Maybe I could ask her anyway and do the complete opposite of what she tells me.

I pull my cell out of my brand new baby, the YSL easy tote with studs. From the moment I saw this bag last spring, I knew it was a must have for the fall. _This _is love at first sight. I would have had to preorder it, but Stefano will make a few exceptions if you ask nicely… I had a field day with this bag. The girls all loved it. And wanted it.

Hmm, a text from Lucy. Social climbers can wait. I hit Jasper's speed dial.

"What, Bell?" From the greeting and the blasé, I-know-you-want-to-just-get-on-your-knees-and-blow-me (as if) tone of Jasper's voice, I deduce he is out and tanked. He's probably with Edward and company. Great, now I have to listen to him try to act out this conversation like he is actually the one wearing the pants in our relationship. Sometimes I wonder if he really believes that. We all know Edward doesn't.

"Wow, I'm so glad to hear from you too," I say mockingly.

"What?"

"Nothing, your enthusiasm just overwhelmed me there for a second," I answer sarcastically in my sweetest sing-song voice. I'm pretty sure I have my most artificial smile plastered on as well, but he can't see that. Oh well.

"Oh Bella, I'm sure it did. I'll tone it down, sweetest girlfriend." I really don't know what's up with him tonight. "So, were you in the mood to share the reason for this phone call, or will I have to guess?"

I'm getting mad. He is out, drunk off his ass at seven in the evening. I know it's Friday but he totally disregarded me in his plans. This much is obvious. And we've hardly seen each other this week and barely met up over the summer.

"Of course, you want me to fucking come over," he blurts out and laughs. I feel so shitty that I wouldn't even mind dealing with his intoxicated ass, I just want him here. It might take my mind off things. I wouldn't mind a distraction of a slightly sexual nature…

"Yes."

"Oh, baby, you should have called sooner. As fantastic as that would be, sweetest Belly, I'm already out. I know how difficult it is for you to stay alone for such a long time, little Belly." And then I hear vicious male laughter in the background.

I snap. He's being sarcastic with these fucking endearments and ridiculing me and my problems in front of his douchey friends, and he knows how much I loathe that nickname. He's really pushing it tonight, being a fucktard like this. I decide I'll leave it alone for now; I'll have enough time to retaliate over the weekend.

"You know, you really could have just said you don't have time instead of getting pissed at your girlfriend wanting to spend time with you on a Friday night. I cleared my schedule for you, but obviously you're too busy preparing your liver for the transplant you'll get when you're twenty three. Enjoy your night, Jasper," I say, hanging up.

I did not actually cancel on the girls for him but I hope it gets him to feel at least a little bit bad.

God, I feel really anxious_. Belly, Belly, Belly_. _The belly_.

I hug myself really tightly, but I hate the way my hips feel under my own hands.

I won't let this get to me now.

I'm an idiot for calling my boyfriend. Like he could actually make me feel better about commencement speeches.

Now I'm really starting to feel like a wreck. _Fatty Belly_.

I try calling Renee, but her phone is off. Probably in a meeting or trying to worm her way back into some socialite's good graces. I don't care.

I just don't know what to do with myself.

_Belly_.

I'm pacing anxiously. I'm down in the kitchen. I find the Balducci muffins Hilde bought this afternoon. They are _soooo _yummy. After I've eaten, like, ten, realization dawns on me. No, I will not do this. I go to the bathroom and take care of the muffins. After I'm done, I wander into my mom's wardrobe. I've been raiding her fat burn pills since I ran out over the summer. I think she got them from her friend's stylist.

I also take half of a Xanax. This is the second time this week. But I'm okay. I lie down in my room and watch _The Antiques Roadshow _(the British one of course), probably for the 50th time. I couldn't be any more clichéd if I tried.

Before I fall asleep, I force myself to get up and do my nightly routine. While brushing my teeth I remember that I moved brunch with Rose, Lauren and Jessica to tomorrow. I just have to keep it together.

}O{

_I look at the new item about to come on. This is the moment I__'ve been waiting for my whole life; quite possibly one of the only Van Goghs that will be auctioned in my lifetime, and it's me standing there. I am the auctioneer, and I call the auction. I'm just about to burst with pride. I'm about to introduce the item when someone comes up to me, tapping their finger on my back. _

_"__Ms. Swann, we have to send you back to camp."_

_"__What do you mean? I can't go back there," I say, appalled. But before I can say more, I'm back in that wretched green place again with my bag in one hand and cookies in the other._

_I open the door and three girls are inside, already unpacked, lounging around on their beds. I smile and bring out the cookies I've brought. I made them, I really love to bake and I'm good at it too. I really want to make friends with these girls. Ever since we came back here, all mom has been doing is moping around. She's been like that since the funeral - not that she was happy before that, but now it's even worse. I just want to have fun and find some friends. I really don't have that many friends in this country, seeing as we moved to France when I was two and just moved back a few months ago. I'm about to say hi and offer them some cookies when I realize I know the blond one, who's the prettiest. We met at the funeral, and she's called Rosalie. At least I know someone._

_"__Oh no," she says._

_"__What, Rose?" the one with dark hair asks._

_"__You know I always take the bottom bunk, but I obviously can't sleep under her, Bree."_

_"__Why not?" asks the third girl with curly hair._

_"__Look at her. It's gonna collapse under her. I would be risking my life sleeping under her," Rose says. The one called Bree just bursts out laughing and the curly haired one looks at me apologetically, but she's still smiling. Rose is looking at me with a deadly serious expression on her face. I feel the heat spread over my face and my eyes start burning. "Look, and she brought even more food." She looks disgusted. "If you have to sleep over me, please don't eat those."_

_"__Okay," I say quietly. "But actually I brought them for you," I say, trying to make the best out of the situation. "My name is Bella by the way."_

_"__Oh my god, she just said her name was Belly!" The one called Bree shouts. "And she wants us to be just like her with fatty bellies!" She drops back on her bed, laughing raucously. "Shove your cookies up somewhere, Belly," she sneers at me, propping herself up on her elbow._

_"__Bree, we have to switch places. I'll sleep under Ashley," Rose says._

_"__Nuh-uh, you just said it was dangerous. I already agreed with Ash."_

_"__Well, this is not safe. Maybe we should tell Mrs. Evanston."_

_"__No!" I didn't want people to know that they had had to put me in another room because I was too fat. I mean, I knew that I wasn't slim, but I definitely didn't feel like I was fat. Until now. Now I felt like 'fat' wasn't a good enough term to describe the magnitude of my problem. "Couldn't I take the bottom bunk?" I look hopefully at them, finally setting my bag down._

_"__No, I always take bottom. Why should I change? I was here first."_

_"__I'll just sleep on the floor then." I say, resigned._

_"__Ehm, no, what if I need to get up in the night? It's not like I could easily step over you."_

_Later that week, I drag my mattress out to the porch during the night, hoping no one can see. I feel kind of cold; mom told me the summer in Maine was not like I was used to. I don't think this is what she meant. I think back to earlier, when everyone went to swim in the lake and I had to stay behind and my throat clogged up painfully. When I had put on my new bikini they all started laughing and shouting, "Beached whale!" so I told Mrs. Evanston I had a headache. I'm so cold and hungry; I feel horrible about eating anything because of those things they said. I shiver in the night and think of my mom, and how good it would be to have her here with me. She would hug me and make everything okay. _

_Just when I'm about to cry some more, I feel another blanket thrown over me. A boy with messy hair is standing by the steps leading to the porch of the cabin. I've noticed him before, because he never said anything bad to me. I feel my cheeks burning again now that he has discovered me sleeping out here like a dog. Not much more left to be ashamed of, but now this damn thing is out too._

_"__Don't listen to them," he says in a steady voice. "They're all idiots. They don't know shit." He scratches his neck while gazing off into space and looks at me one last time. "Sleep well, Bella." He is the first one outside of the supervisors who has called me Bella._

I startle awake in a cold sweat. I look around and see that I'm in my bedroom, surrounded by the soothing, cool, blue night. I breathe air deep into my lungs and try to get my heart to stop throbbing in my chest. I do what I usually do, picture myself in a Joaquin Sorolla painting, on the beach in a white flowing dress with the afternoon sun blinding me from the dancing reflections on the waves. It works.

I hate this dream. I don't have it as often anymore, but it still brings me down like nothing else could. I knew I should've taken a whole Xanax. I look at the alarm clock. _3 AM_. Renee is probably back and I don't feel like sneaking around in her room, so I'll have to make do without them.

I close my eyes and sigh. I just hate everything that has to do with _that_ summer. I was twelve and insecure, but it had a big part in making me who I am now. Grandmother would tell me to be proud and look back on it like the rock bottom and see how far I've come, but I still can't think back to that time and feel anything other than pain and shame. But that summer changed my life, and ultimately I'm grateful for it. Grandmother told me I would've had to learn those lessons eventually, and that I should be glad it happened so soon. I guess I should be thankful for it, but it doesn't feel like I can ever feel that way about it. I drift back to sleep after an hour and a half, imagining I can feel the ocean breeze in my hair. Maybe I should get one of those weird sounding alarm clocks.

}O{

The summer's over, but we are not quite back to the routine with the girls. We're having brunch in the Oak Room on Saturday instead of Sunday, but I wanted it to be today, so here we are.

We spent the last weekend of the summer together in Rose's aunt's mansion in Amagansett. It's the most adorable place, a white mansion on the shore. Going there is sort of a tradition where we each recount summer adventures, and bid farewell to the summer while attending the closing up parties. We usually go back one last time to have the finals of the tennis tournament and the polo match. It's really the best way to meet all the people you are going to be seeing back at school. If you want to be somebody in St. Forks and missed the close up of the Hamptons, you kind of blew it. Closing up parties are the best in any case, so it's not much of a sacrifice. People really let go and there is no better way to mourn the summer.

Not that anything remarkable happened over the summer. Rose went to Tuscany as usual, to 'practice her Italian,' while hanging out in her grandma's villa with Jessica and a few girls from Exeter. I visited them for like a week and it was kind of boring. But apparently they went to see one of the girls' boyfriends in Croatia and had a blast. I'll stick with St. Tropez, thank you very much.

The town car drops me off in front of the Plaza on 5th. I tell Laszlo to drive back; I'll let him know when I'm ready to go back home. Since we're going to be shopping today I'm just wearing a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress.

The bagel with lox here is excellent, but I'll make do with a mimosa. Lauren's international popstar/celebrity mom is not a fan of the aging gracefully concept, but she has enormous pull and can get people to do all sorts of things. Basically she let the manager know that a little champagne in your orange juice is one of the small joys in life no teen girl should go without.

Anyway, forbidding Lauren to drink would be like asking Vanessa Hudgens to cover up. You can't fight your genes calling; her mom was working it by her age. Not to mention she thinks she is Catherine from _Cruel Intentions_. All she's got in common with Catherine is that her legs are open so often they put most 7/11s to shame, and she's got the snort-coke-cause-my-life-sucks routine down to a T. But I'm not supposed to know about that.

The sad truth is, Lauren couldn't scheme her way out of gym five minutes early, but she spreads gossip like letting people know Tyler has genital herpes is a matter of life and death. It's kind of sad that she never realized that broadcasting that after they 'dated' could be counterproductive, but she did make most people believe it. Her skill is very handy in maintaining the status quo.

"Hey, B! Did you have fun last night with Jasper?" Bitch. If Jasper was out last night, and he was, then she would be the first to know. I know Jasper would never actually do someone as desperate for dick as Lauren, but I still won't let her intimidate me by exposing I had no idea where he was on a Friday night. It's not like I couldn't have found out if I wanted to.

"Hey, Lau. No, Jasper was out last night. I really didn't want him around. I'm almost finished with my speech for the mixer. And having him around… you know, there's no way I would've ever got it done!" I turn toward J! "Where's Rose?" She seems a bit nervous.

"Hmmm, well she was out yesterday. I don't know where she is." Oh God, not again. Does she really expect us to wait around for her wondering where she could be? Why does she always feel the need to make everything about her?

"What, is she standing us up? Just call her. God, isn't it kind of sad how she finds any random dick more important than us?" I say, tossing my coat at the waiter. Rose is under the sad delusion that if a guy is willing to go to the lengths of actually indulging her with a few dates and a Friday night spent together in her apartment while her parents are out, it could actually mean something.

"I don't think it's just dick, Bella. They've been, like, on a few dates and this Royce guy seems really nice, good for her. We should support-" I stop Jess right there.

"J, at this point it's probably better if you don't think at all. We all see the pattern. Guys just don't take her seriously. But we won't let her ditch us because, yet again, she thought sleeping with some sleaze would turn her from Carrie into Cinderella. Call her." As Jess dials and leaves the table, I realize she might be pissed. Well, it makes sense, she and Meek Mike have been together for two years, with her ducking out for a few random dicks along the way when the mood strikes. That's why she could never really lose weight. She literally has the willpower of a nympho in a peen-forest. Only she would think getting the perfect boyfriend is picking a dress for Amish prom.

Two years is long, but not nearly as long as Jasper and me – three and a half years. I know him like the back of my hand. If we stick to the shoes analogy, you have to know which shop to look in, you would never find the right ones if you started plowing through all the shoes you could get your hands on. Jessica's very unobservant and just because she is – albeit arguably – lucky, she thinks everyone else could just as easily be too. I know better. Lauren snickers throughout the conversation. Well, she runs on liquor and misery, she'll probably have a good day.

"I'm here." Rose arrives in a casual white Barbara Bui dress with a beaded neckline, her Tod's flats and a matching bag. Unmistakable sex hair and definitely less effort than usual. She seems a little breathless but she's smiling. I bet the guy didn't break it off yet. Maybe he's serious? Ever since she almost hooked up with Emmett last year she's been hard at work trying to find someone decent to take to the Annual Hale Fundraiser as her a date. I think her mother used the term "dispiriting" when Rose came to the Black and White gala with her best gay.

"Hey." I give her my brightest smile. I'm trying to channel Grace Kelly, but then I remember I always end up looking like a stroke victim if I try too hard so I stop. "Jess was just about to call you. She was kind of pissed; she thought you were ditching us because of what happened with your parents away, spending the night with Royce…" I don't even try to look concerned. It's Rosalie. The last thing she needs is my concern.

"Ah, you're here. You sent me straight to voicemail." Jessica smiles, holding up her phone.

"Yes. Now that everyone knows what happened last night, and you really don't need to worry about me ditching you. Can we get on with the program?" Rose says, looking a tad bit annoyed with J. Jess looks puzzled. At least I don't have to worry about her and Lauren rebelling against me any time soon. Lauren, of course, can't resist commenting.

"I seriously hope you really got it right this time. I know it takes great courage to put yourself out there for guys who might be interested, like every single time, Rose. On the plus side, at least by now you've proved that sorrow doesn't drown in Ben & Jerry's."

Already dripping with faux concern at half past 11. I don't know about liquor but she seems really determined about her dose of misery this morning. Sometimes, I do love Lauren. For short moments. Rose gives her a look that could kill a smaller mammal, but Lauren just shrugs with a not-so-apologetic smile.

"Come on, Lauren. Have some trust." I'm smiling at Rose. "Maybe Rosalie has found the kind of relationship she was looking for all along. That will leave you the only single girl and we will have to live vicariously through you. We might force you to put yourself out there more often."

"I don't think it's possible to put yourself out there more than Lauren does. She really is an eager beaver," Rose smiles sweetly at her. I'm trying to hold back a laugh. Jess doesn't even try, but Lauren sneers bitterly. Well, at least she is honest. Sometimes I wish I could be friends with Rose like I was friends with Tanya, but the feeling never lasts long enough for me to actually try. That and the nausea kicks in too. Rose's mimosa arrives and she sips it, contemplating something. It doesn't really matter, but I decide it's time to get past the awkwardness of this conversation before things get out of hand.

"Well, since we usually share what happened during the week, let's get on with it. Now, if anyone has anything to share, please." This is actually our code for dishing gossip but we'd never call it that. That'd just be uncouth. I know I probably have the best one, but I'll wait it out. I gesture with my eyes to Jessica. She smiles with mischief in her eyes, but the 'gossip' she is about to deliver is going to be about as shocking as finding a condom wrapper in a brothel.

"Ladies, I have had the privilege of learning that the gift of St. Forks High that keeps on giving, alias Edward Anthony Cullen, has actually bagged the new Miss I-am-such-a-goody-two-shoes-Christian America this weekend." The girls all start snickering and rolling their eyes at this piece of news. Wow, actually I think she should have gone with the condom wrapper one.

As for Edward, let's just say, someone invented the term 'man slut' with him in mind. Or maybe Tyler. Apparently there are a few girls who claim they had sex with him without ever so much as actually meeting him. So at this point he could easily sit back and let his notoriety take care of itself, but he is not likely to do that. He really is hot, he has that pretty boy thing going on even though outside of school he dresses like he had to beat a hobo into unconsciousness to get a hold of the clothes he's wearing. And he's packing heat that could convert lesbians, according to Tanya. She is no blushing virgin and has first hand experience when it comes to Edward's nether regions, so I guess it's true. I think there might be some animalistic/primal magnetism thing going on too. He can be panty-dropping sexy, sometimes. Not to me, though, I mean, generally. Definitely not to me.

A world of good his good looks do for him, though. He's incredibly annoying and just… _arrgh_. Come to think of it, he and Tanya were a match made in heaven. Too bad Tanya was too distracted by the calling of her ravenous hooha to actually realize it. Something about him just rubs me the wrong way. I know guys like Tyler and Emmett are just like him, walking around like they were the hand picked by Jesus and sent as a signed gift to the women of the earth.

He just doesn't give a shit and thinks he's _so_ untouchable and awesome. It's _so_ annoying he thinks _I'm_ shallow because I don't listen to bands who the cheap weed addled retards at _Rolling Stone_ think are _classics_. That I'm entitled, snobby and _uncool_ because I don't wear fake-ratty band T-shirts which were made by ten year old illiterate Chinese kids who work 12 hours a day. He breezes through this whole thing, and it's pissing me off how he's so blasé about everything and thinks it's ridiculous to care about the high school hierarchy. I know for a fact that he hates me and thinks I'm the source of all evil in St. Forks, and thinks that it would be like a petting zoo, were it not for the devious demon that is Bella Swan. He calls _me _juvenile.

I just treat him with indifference most of the time, I try to pretend he's not there because it wouldn't look so good if I added 'grievous bodily harm' to my record. It's just the way he's standing around that's aggravating the shit out of me. And I'm not a violent person. Too bad I was forced to side with him in the whole Tanya fiasco.

"Miss… Miss!" I look into the waiter's eyes.

"Yes… hmm. Sorry, I kind of zoned out there for a moment." God, I feel 'The Blush'. It's kind of horrible. I would honestly sell my soul if I could get rid of it. It's happening less frequently, thankfully. "I'd like a bagel with lox, some capers on the side and a bottle of Perrier, please." I smile at him. It's not like I will eat any of it anyway.

"So the news of Edward's newest lady of the hour has you all dazed and confused. Is there something you wanna share with us, B?" Lauren asks. Oh God, of course everything about Edward would have her jump at. I guess she was one of the lucky girls who helped create the monster he is now. She must resent that he never looks back for more than a self-congratulatory blow-job in celebration of his superior womanizing skills.

"Yeah I was just thinking of the kind of trashy, nasty tramps he's been sleeping with. No wonder he is looking for some salvation from a Christian with an excellent boob job." Although Edward never had a problem sleeping with nasty girls.

"Thinking of converting, B? Or do you want me to recommend a plastic surgeon?" she asks, seeming slightly pissed. I guess I should just drop my gossip bomb now so Lauren can let go of this ridiculous bone she's holding on to so desperately. Never one to pass up a bone… she is just that kind of girl.

"A: I am a Christian, protestant at that. B: Lauren, with eyebrows like yours, I would take extreme caution before dealing with any beautician you recommend.C: you really think I could be tempted by a guy like Edward when I have Jasper? Moving on, would you guys care to guess why pathetically slutty little Samantha Jonson always ends up in detention with Coach Clapp?"

They all look at me expectantly. Coach Clapp is not too old and kind of hot in a meathead way, but he smells awful. It was really appalling that the school was reduced to hiring this kind of 'handpicked by pedo-bear' trash with personal hygiene problems to boot. Jasper found it hilarious when he was out of his sensory contamination zone – i.e. when he couldn't smell him – but I had to complain to the headmaster. If you don't pay attention when standards are slipping, next thing you know our school will have a number instead of a name and uniform will be optional.

"Well, unless she is completely devoid of a sense of smell, I guess it's an unlucky coincidence on her part." Thank you, Jessica, eternal bimbo, for joining us from La-la Land. I get my phone out of my purse and I look for the picture Nessie sent me. Got it. I set it on mute, but press play and pass the phone to Lauren next to me, Rose leans in too, looking at it curiously. It's already like the summer never happened.

"Well, I'm curious how this will be written off as an unlucky coincidence." I smile. This will be good.

"Wow, a video of Samantha on her knees. That must have been very difficult to take," laughs Lauren. She looks down at it pensively for a moment. "I must admit, she is hard at work."

"Well as far as Samantha's concerned, the only news is that she must be a fan of extreme pheromones, but it's a student with a teacher. This is huge." Rosalie smiles. "Wow, she is really working that thing. Lauren, you might have some competition."

"Let me see it." Jessica grabs it from her. "No way. God, that is so gross. That girl is just nasty." I almost blush, but not because of this video. Rumor has it I've never even gone down on Jasper because apparently I hate blow jobs since I'm a virgin. Truth is, I'm a very skilled snake charmer, and giving head gets me desperately horny, which makes me sound like such a slut. I guess deep down I am one. Not as big as Tanya, though.

So when I heard the rumor I kind of went with it, because it sounds so cool that I could get Jasper to stay with me using only my hands, so to speak. I might have warned him that I'd stop being so nice to his peen if he ever told, not that I'd follow through, but I think he made a good deal, right?

"You took this?" Lauren asks me, starting on her waffle.

"Uhm, no, I don't spy on the coach's afternoon delight sessions with students. Please," I say rolling my eyes. I concentrate on putting the capers artistically on the bagel. Whatever.

"Well, that much was obvious. Who filmed them, then?" Rose inquires, pursing her lips, as she tries to spoon something edible out of her grapefruit.

"Nessie Kelleher. I had History with her. She's the one with the horrid perm."

"Yeah, we know who she is. What did she want?" Lauren is just blunt like that.

"Well, maybe she was concerned and as class president she felt safe coming to me and confiding in me." I try to look earnest and serious, a picture perfect model student, but then I smile just a little evilly and we all burst out laughing.

"Yeah, and then she sent the soft porn to only _you_ to keep as evidence, figures." Lauren is so dense sometimes.

"I don't think this is soft. It looks rather hard. And she wanted me to make sure she had a decent date to the cotillion. Which is just as well, it's not like she had a prayer of getting one on her own. And she wanted you, Lauren, to ease up on the rumors about her involving a rabbit, a light bulb, Mr. Varner and a potato. Did people actually believe that?" I ask Lauren incredulously. She really is evil. I don't know how she came up with that one, much less how she convinced people it was true, but there you go. She does have special talents.

"I stopped spreading that after the first week. It's a self-sustaining thing. Plus don't you think it really says something that people found it so easy to believe? Whatever." She sighs dramatically "What did you tell her?"

"That she would have to choose. I kind of made her believe this wasn't that big of a deal."

"So do you plan on confronting Smelly Clapp and blackmailing him into an eventual A plus in gym?" Rose quips in.

"You really shouldn't. This could get you in big trouble, B." J looks over at me, and for a moment I think she might actually be concerned about me. I have to lay off the mimosas. I haven't eaten anything today and I don't want to be delusional by midday.

"No. That would be overly suspicious, for the four of us, all A's in gym. I don't want to be part of the alleged Smelly Clapp gangbang 2009." There is no way I'm being associated with a teacher.

"Exactly. And it's _gym_, for Christ's sakes, not chemistry or something that actually matters. Let's just leave this alone, or better yet report it and just forget about it." J always did suck at chemistry.

"J, are you really that opposed to showing some social muscle? Come on, this is not about gym. It's about control, and showing that we have it," says Rose.

She is the only one here who really understands what this is about. Moments like these I know she would be a perfect queen bee, but that has to be me. It is ridiculous that I'm actually doing this shit, but it's high school. It has to be done. Everyone looks at me. This is a pivotal moment or could be.

"J, if you're too uncomfortable to manage school affairs then maybe you should leave. I understand making serious decisions can be intimidating to some but you are by no means obliged to be here with us." I look her in the eye, delivering my little speech. I should have known Jessica would freak. But when we conduct risky business I can't have someone second guessing me.

"Of course. I mean I'm here with you – we're, like friends, so yeah, it was just a suggestion but of course, whatever we agree upon will be okay with me. Seriously, like, just tell me but I thought… but of course, we should decide together," J says as she tries to remove her foot unsuccessfully from her mouth. But she's in just like always.

"Well in any case, I think we should just use this for easily excused absences and just some general leniency. As you said J, this is just gym, nothing serious, so it's not like this is gonna affect us academically. Maybe we can use it for something else when stuff comes up. What do you think, Rose?"

"Yeah, I guess we can't all have A pluses in gym. That would be weird and I wouldn't mind being associated with you girls, but not Clapp. So yeah, we should just try and get him to give us a fair grade and not slack off _too_ much." She winks in the end. She looks kind of radiant.

I kind of feel bad about that mimosa I drank. Orange juice is full of sucrose; its GI index is off the charts. Whatever.

"Yes, finally I get to skip some." Lauren smiles and does a few silly dance moves involving her arms, just like mommy.

"But obviously this is between us. I think people would prefer not to see… this. So, Lauren, please." Ipointedly look at her.

"What? I won't tell. Believe me, it's best interest," she says, downing what could possibly be her seventh mimosa.

"Good. Now that that's done, what's up with Tanya?" Rose asks. I kind of freeze up, just for a moment. Could she possibly know?

"Yeah, she went to Europe for the summer, of course. She had fun. She's still there," I say smiling at her.

"Oh really?" Rose asks excitedly, but I can guess she probably knows something I don't. "Well, then that news I heard about her moving into Waldorf with that hobo-progressive rocker was complete BS, was it?" So she's back. Good to know. I reply seeming super excited without missing a beat.

"Really? Oh my God, she told me she had a surprise for me tonight but I never thought it would be this! Wow, I'm so glad! Oh girls, we might have to finish shopping early. I have hardly seen her over the summer." We go on yapping about useless stuff.

We call the maitre d', settle our checks and set out on our little therapeutic shopping excursion.

Okay, so that plan about losing it with Jasper tonight obviously won't work. I even bought the candles and made that stupid playlist. I went Brazilian below the belt just for the occasion. I swear it's like the universe is conspiring against us. Or it's maybe it's him, he never knows when to shut up and be nice. So the way things look now, I definitely won't be able to start this year sans V-card. _Great_.

And I don't know what to do about Tanya. I'll need to find a way to see how things stand between us. I may have gone a little overboard, but not enough to warrant an apology.

I hear Jessica and Lauren babbling on about some kind of magical bra that they want to buy today as we walk down the street. We enter Chanel and Sophie greets us with a smile on her face.

"Girls, we've been expecting you…"

Of course you have.

* * *

**A/N: ****Reviewers rock and get a teaser from the stalker's next blogging. Just sayin' ;)**

**I'm having exams right now and it's major suckage; your reviews are sparkling rays of sunshine in my cold, destitute, textbook riddled life. I have a statistics exam caming up too. That alone should compel you to ease my misery with a review. Thanks**


	4. Like dominoes

******PLEASE READ: If you have triggers to the following: underage drinking, underage drug use, underage sex, swearing and eating disorders, please find something else to read. This is rated M for a reason. I am not a babysitter.**

**I need to thank my angel of a masterbeta, storytellerslie for her efforts, the marvelous marvar, literary genius KCerena, Savannah-vee and pre-reader h32mh32m who puts my ghetto ass Cinderella of a story in its pumpkin carriage. And all the people who encourage me to keep doing this; I can't thank you enough. I couldn't do this without you.**

**Can you imagine owning Edward Cullen? Even for a day? I don't think I'd have time for fanfic if I did own him. I wouldn't have time for anything. But sadly he ain't mine. Neither is Gossip Girl. I make no money.**

**Thank you for the alerts, the favorites and especially the reviews. I know it is already an expression of appreciation of some sort if you add me on alert. But I'd love it if you dropped me a line and let me know what you think. Reviewing is a good way to make friends too; my first ever review got me my first twi-fic friend ;)**

**And now, I give you Edward.**

* * *

**EPOV**

I turn to Trixie. She's chewing gum, and even though it makes her look like some kind of barn animal, somehow it's also fucking sexy. We are in a bathroom, but I'm lying down. I notice she's wearing a hot pink bra, and I smirk and get ready to sit back and enjoy the fuck out of this. There are white tiles on the wall and it feels kind of institutional, like a hospital. Then the surroundings fade as she gets to work. She takes me in all the way. My kind of girl.

It's just about to get good when she releases me and smiles. Now she is wearing a nurse's uniform, with a freaky plastic mask. Shit is getting hardcore, and the look in her eyes is kind of evil.

I'm starting to wonder if I'm into it. The next thing I know, she's snapping on some blue latex gloves, then winking at me and reaching for a drill. I realize I am in a hospital bed. She turns on the drill and starts moving it to my ear with slow but steady hands. She's gonna drill my skull!

It feels like the drilling has already started. Then I open my eyes. Mother of fuck, it's just my cell. It still feels like some evil bitch is actually drilling me in the head. This is shaping out to be one really shitty hangover. Once I find out who it is, I might just murder them. I turn it off. Peace. Fucking finally. I try to drift back, catch up to the point in the dream where I was in Trixie's heavenly oral orifice. Fuck, that damn dream kinda freaked me the fuck out. My boner starts to shrink. Then that piece of shit starts ringing again. Apparently I haven't managed to turn it off. I reach for it, but as I move my head from the pillow the pounding gets worse. My brain feels like it's squirming inside my skull. I think I'm groaning, but I'm not sure. It could be whoever just started moving next to me. I find my phone, ready to tear a new one and then possibly several more to whoever the fuck is causing these highly disturbing drilling delusions.

"This had better be a matter of mother-fucking code red National Security or I'll be hanging the fuck up."

"I wasn't aware you knew nuns willing to go that far to teach about fun times in the communal kitchen," a deadpan but girlie voice replies sarcastically. Bella Swann. Well if that isn't fucking fantastic timing. She isn't about to lose her touch, much less give up her ridiculous reign of the pathetic high school we both go to. "But then again, if there _were _freaky thug nuns, you would know where to find them. So, what's up?" I groan. I know asking this question is not why she called me, and I could do a lot better than conversing with her at this hour about nothing. It's a Saturday morning, everyone _else_ knows better than to call.

"Well, it's funny you should ask. I was in blissful slumber, avoiding facing the mother of all hangovers when I was pretty fucking rudely interrupted."

"What were you doing in the summer to have such a crappy tolerance, Edward, Jesus camp? If you have this much trouble handling a Friday night out, then I don't see a bright future in this whole golden youth spiel you've got going on. It's three in the afternoon, a socially acceptable time to call anyone but a patient on life support. What's next, are you planning on spending New Year's with your dad?"

"Bella, just shut the fuck up." With one of my hands I'm kneading my forehead, willing this fucking ache to go away. I don't succeed. Fuck, I shouldn't have snapped at her. I still owe her for last year, even if she was too busy making sure her summer was spectacular enough that the pictures on Facebook would blow the school-herd's mind. After the Belly comment Jasper planted on her last night she's likely to lose another five fucking pounds; she only gets this bitchy with me if she's really upset. I hoist myself up, resting my head on my hands 'til my headache settles a little. I'm about to start talking into the phone but realize she hung up. Of course, queen B won't take kindly to people verbally mistreating her. Despite the feeling of having bleached shit for brains, I chuckle. Oh so feisty. I redial. She is down, she will answer.

"I really hope you're calling to apologize, Cullen. I had a shitty day; I don't need you and your Amish-teenager's-first-night-out hangover making it even shittier." I get up, and put on my smoking jacket. Jasper says it's preppy, and according to Emmett this particular item signals that I take it up the ass, but I'm hot enough. I can pull it off. I get out a Lucky Strike and light it.

"If you had ever had a hangover like mine, Swann, you'd be right here, in a nurse uniform, with a steaming mug of kopi luwak coffee and English breakfast, offering me any part of your body to use as a stress ball." My head is still fucking pulsing, and I groan. _Bella as a nurse_. One can dream; plus, you can't help but tease the eternal 'Virgin Isabella.' It's what we do, Swann and me. Honestly, there may have been a time I meant it, and I think she would be offended if I stopped, but she's either clearly not interested or great at resisting; fuck if I know. Maybe she's frigid? I mean, I don't think so; I've seen the videos she sent Jasper over the summer, and it seems she definitely has some kinky in her. Not to mention an ass that would give a hard-on to a corpse. It's very cruel to tease a man that way when she won't do shit. Not that I tried pursuing her actively – I'm not that lousy as a best friend – but her lack of interest does scar my ego a bit. But I know she gets off on a little flirting. All girls do. I exit my room and start walking down the stairs. "Now that I think about it, that's exactly what I should have. Your lovely lady lump could be a life saver. You really should consider it. Saving lives would be a fantastic item to have in your extracurriculars." I take a drag, inhaling deeply and exhaling oh so fucking slowly, and then throw myself onto the couch next to some sleeping body and look out to the clear skyline and Central Park. I love the place, because it's like that city in the clouds. I always did love the almost bird's eye view it gives of the city.

"I'm sure nursing an entitled brat from a hangover would convince anyone to like me. But I didn't call you for advice on extracurricular activities. Tanya's back."

Fuck me, I almost forgot about Tanya. Yeah, it's not the easiest thing to do. I know Bella will probably never be able to.

"Yep, Tyler told me yesterday. So, you talk to her yet?" she asks. It's Mike sleeping next to me and drooling onto my couch. He's almost completely naked. _And is that an apron?_ I kick him off the couch.

"Fuck you," he mumbles into the carpet, then falls asleep again. What the fuck is up with that apron?

"No you imbecile, I have not. I don't know if you remember, but when we caught her _in flagrante delicto_ at the Black and White gala, I took your side. We haven't spoken since then, and I told her I would tell her mom if she didn't stay away." Bella's right. I take a moment to walk down memory lane back to that month I thought I should give monogamy a shot. Let's just say, I have a newfound understanding of the reasons I had for avoiding it in the first place – and then some.

"Well, I hope you didn't expect her to stay away for good. I mean, did you think you could make her transfer schools? Besides, you only took my side because she lied to you about it. You'll forgive her," I say. And she will. Bella and Tanya always make up; at this point, I don't think they can function without each other. And anyway, I never forced her to take my side.

"Well isn't that nice; I run her out of town for you and you can't even act a little grateful for it, sullen!"

"Bella, she went to fucking Europe in May, and stayed away from New York for the whole summer. So did most of class, at least that's what I've heard. Do you really expect me to thank you for that? I never even asked you to do any of it." She is trying to make me feel guilty. Oh, no, the Swann mindfuck. I was kind of grateful for her standing up for me at the time, but it was never about me and anyway, it's not like her being in the city for the summer would have bothered me.

"Edward, she wasn't just gone from the city. She was absent from the social scene. To this day no one can reach her on her cell; it's still switched off. Can you recall hearing from her over the summer? It was all mindless rumors, like her making a porno directed by Michael Bay. She was gone and you know it, and you deliberately made it seem like it was because you played her, when it was quite the opposite, if I recall correctly. If I hadn't gotten rid of her, everyone would know that it was you who got played, so please, try and be a little nicer." Jesus Christ, my brain can't handle that kind of stuff in its current state. I take another deep drag, hoping it will put some sense back in my lousy slacker brain. It wasn't just me who was 'played,' but I don't feel it necessary to volunteer that information.

"Okay, Swann, what do you want me to do? Tell her to change schools?" I ask sarcastically.

"No. I want you to know why she's back and if she is willing to grovel. If so, maybe I can forgive her, and we can put this behind us, if it's okay with you." I sigh. Bella is the strangest creature. She was less pissed when Jasper lost it to Tanya in eighth grade summer camp, because Tanya immediately told her about it, and apparently that wasn't right, but it was okay. Lying is a heinous criminal offence between BFFs, but apparently sharing dicks isn't. Not that Bella has much use for a dick anyway. She is one of those inscrutable women you always hear about. I don't mean that as a compliment.

"I'm long past it, B. I know you miss her, let's just face it; you're too fucking proud to go to her and admit it, so I should find Tanya and make it seem like she's begging, and then you can make things right, and go back to 69ing each other before going to bed." Of course, it would make her look like the weaker one if she went to Tanya and I'm pretty fucking sure there has been some experimentation between those two. If only I had proof...

"Yeah, you've got it right. I guess I shouldn't be surprised you found out about what we do when we have sleepovers," she says casually. I almost believe it for a moment, but I wise up. Yeah, right, Virgin Isabella.

"Awww, Swann. I know you tried things, and it would be my fucking pleasure if you came to me with any questions you had on this particular topic, but I know you'd never admit it. Frankly, it's your loss. T and I always had some serious chemistry," I chuckle. "I know things. For example there's that delicious spot…"

"Eww, gross. Shut up, Edward, I'm really not interested. So now that you've agreed to visit Tanya, you'd better hurry, so you can catch her. She's in the Waldorf and she just finished getting her manicure."

"Wow, that was fast," I laugh. "I never even agreed. And by the way, just how much time did you spend lurking on her Facebook page to get this info?"

"I have a life, I don't hang around on _Facebook_, and she stopped using her account. The info is from someone on the inside, so it's good, but that's all you need to know. Now go, and tell me how it goes. Please. Edward, you owe me and this is important."

I take one last drag, then drop the cig into one of the beer bottles on my custom made coffee table. I do owe her; I guess I'll just have to suck it up. But it's not like it's less awkward for me to confront Tanya after the shitstorm of events that at the Black and White gala.

I go into the kitchen, drink two bottles of Fiji, and take two Advils. Well, fuck it, now I have to go meet _Tanya_ of all people looking like freshly washed shit. Maybe I should eat something. No, I'll just get to it once I'm at the Waldorf. Or stop somewhere after.

I call Ted, my driver, to get the car ready. I could walk, but in this state it's not fucking likely.

I struggle up the stairs and into my room to find that there is someone blond on my bed. I think I remember her being interviewed last night while I was fingering her at our table, but I'm not positive it was real. She's some celebrity then, maybe. I guess I won't have a hard time getting rid of her. I am underage, after all.

Isn't seventeen the sweetest?

"Rise and shine," I say, dragging the covers off of her. I note to myself that her mammoplasty is mediocre at best, but that otherwise she has a decent body. Then she turns toward me and realization dawns on me. Heh, Miss America. It's funny; she's incidentally also a member of some Women For Values fucking hypocritical organization. Well, based on how she handled herself last night, she does value cock. Maybe I should support their work. "You have to leave. My dad could be home any minute." She sends me a smile that is supposed to be alluring, but it only convinces me her IQ's probably in the double digits.

"Come on, last night was so much fun. Just give me some time to recuperate, and I'll be back up again. Wow," her eyes get wide when they land on Daisy. "What the hell? That is so weird! I didn't notice it last night."

"No, of course you wouldn't." Daisy is a white statue is of a woman kneeling on a pedestal, with her knees spread apart, her chest jutted out and her head held high. Her hands are held behind her back straight with chains on. She has on a white afro wig and a rod is placed strategically under her. Actually that's the tap, but I never actually filled it up with milk. I don't exactly know what rotten milk smells like, but I would like to wait for another way to find out. Maybe once we have a Clockwork themed party, but probably not.

"So… are you, like… into that?" she asks, biting her lip in what I presume to be an enticing way, pulling down the sheets slightly. It's such a shame that the only reaction this priceless film relic gets out of her is to think I like to treat women like dogs which I don't. That BDSM shit freaks me the fuck out.

I sigh. It might not be that easy to get rid of her.

"Listen, it was fun, but you have to leave. Now." She turns her head back to the pillows, and mutters something about being sure she won't be the first my dad found here. "That might be true, but he said he'll take legal action against the next adult he finds me with." Truth be told, be wouldn't want the scandal that would come with that, but if it gets the bitch out, it works for me.

"What?" Her head suddenly springs up. "You're a minor? What the fuck? I thought you were in college." She jumps up and starts looking for her clothes. "Where the hell is my dress? It was on loan from de la Renta. I'm gonna have to pay for it if I don't find it. Jesus, you seemed so much older. Why the fuck didn't you let me know?" I watch her putting on her bra and panties, and I really just want her out, so I try to let her down gently.

"Well, you seemed so beautiful, and I felt some serious chemistry. I thought you felt it too. I certainly don't regret it. But I don't want you in trouble, so you should leave, now." This is not the reason, but I decide to pull my best manners out, hoping it will be easy.

"Yes, I felt it too." She goes on looking for her dress, but comes up empty handed. I hand her one of my fitted purple label shirts and a pair of boxers. Then she gets a contemplative look on her face. Oh, fuck…

"Maybe if we stayed here and explained to your dad, we could continue somehow."

I shouldn't have brought her to the apartment. These faux-Christian, social climbing, gold digging bitches get greedy when they see where I live.

"We would just have to keep it out of the public eye and it would be, like, totally okay," she says beaming at me and no doubt congratulating herself for her brilliant idea.

I need to get her out of here fast; I don't want a repeat of her offer to continue covertly dating a wealthy minor, or to give her a shot at trying to sweet talk my daddy into anything. I gave her an out. I told her it was good. Not once have I alluded to wanting anything more, so I opt to be blunt.

"Yeah, I was really curious about how a Republican redneck beauty queen fucks. I've never had the honor, and one of my friends said it's not to be missed. I'm really glad I took that chance, Kelly. Of course we could have a repeat whenever you're in the city; we'll just talk to my dad about it." I guess I was a bit harsh. She indignantly huffs, stops looking for her clothes, and then storms out of the room.

"I'll tell the help to send your dress back," I shout after her, but she flips me off.

_Well, now that that's done I'll take a shower_. I throw my smoking coat on the bed and walk into my bathroom while tugging a little on my hair. The bathroom's not huge, but it's got a magnificent shower, and a fairly large bathtub. I stand in the shower and start the water. I'm starting to feel better, I think. As I stand under the water stream, I try to reassemble the murky memories of last night.

We went to the Soho house, sad as that is. Tyler started bitching about not wanting to be seen at a club where you can just buy your way in. Like anyone gives a shit about where he's seen. And Jasper was already there. Then the Swann called, and if she doesn't drag Jasper away with her whining, he always kicks shit up a few notches. So that's what we did. Then we headed to Oak, because Em wouldn't quit busting our balls about how he was at that motherfucking DJ fuck-me-if-I-can-remember's party and how hard it rocked his world. Emmett is so fucking west coast, it hurts.

Lauren's dad owns the place, so we're on the list, and we had no problem getting in. But there was some fucked up event before that, with all these self-important C-list celebs. Not our scene, but Em wouldn't let up. So to kill boredom, and in a gesture to bid farewell to the summer and welcome our junior year, we all did a few lines. I remember the first. Then we got mixed up with a bunch of girls, and after my seventh goose it all gets blurry, but I guess I did some more. I think I might have done some E, too. Or was it Speed? Fuck if I know. I promised myself I wouldn't do any more E.

So after that we ended up with a bunch of girls. I recall us crawling into the limo, but not a fucking thing about what happened in there. I remember the sex was good, though. She was a bit on the loud and porny moaning side, and came up to talk way too much while giving head, but all in all, she gets a six.

I lather myself with some shampoo, and then just stand there, gazing down at my feet. This is just one of those days… I continue my Special Ed impersonation for a few more minutes, before leaving the shower. I think about shaving but fuck it, it's not happening today. I dry myself and then tie the towel around my hips. I look in the mirror. A better-looking version of the Dawn of the Dead. I'll take it.

I walk into my closet. I don't want to make an effort, not today. Fuck Tanya for choosing the only hotel in New York with a dress code; now I won't be able to wear jeans. I put on a pair of Calvin Klein boxers, getting out a pair of white chino pants and a light blue shirt. I've gotten a little tan so it'll be good. I decide on a pair of docksiders, but I can't be bothered to wear a belt. I get out a new pair of Wayfarers. I keep losing my glasses. I have no idea where my last ones are. I don't want to go out there and face the world today. I look in the mirror again. _Well, time to face the music_.

I collect my wallet and my cell. I go down and kick Mike awake. "Man, you need to get out. I'll call help to clean this place up. Carlisle will be in tonight." He groans. Must have done some potent shit last night.

I call Linda, our housekeeper, who has her day off today, telling to call that cleaning crew who cleans when she is not available. The crew will be here in half an hour; hopefully they'll let Mike out. I leave them a note to send back the gown to where it came from, if they find it. Whatever, I'll let them figure it out. Mike gets up, and attempts to walk to the bathroom. Miserable fucker. I muster every ounce of strength and leave.

I run into Chelsea in the elevator. She lives a few floors bellow us, so there is no feasible explanation for her to be in the elevator on this floor – except for the obvious. It's kinda sadly transparent, and I try not to freak out that this public library of STDs might be stalking me. She is one of those women who saw Pamela Anderson get famous in the 90's with her fake hair and fake tits, and she thought she could duplicate the miracle with 5k and a bottle of peroxide. She forgot to account for the masses of other fake bitches who tried the same thing, so after her failure at getting famous, she went for the next best thing: snatching up a rich husband and becoming a trophy wife. So Mrs. Chelsea Peterson has nothing to do but keep herself upgraded with her new plastic surgeon who actually has a medical degree, and try to keep Mr. Peterson's bank account trimmed with her shopping sprees. And try she does.

"Well, hello Ed. How's it going?" I don't say anything, just look deep into her eyes and send a smooth smile her way, but slowly look away before I can give her the wrong idea. I guess that implies I'm living the motherfucking highlife. Or not. I'm wearing sunglasses, so I guess it's open to interpretation.

"I heard from Herbert you got in at six, and were so wasted you almost felt him up?" She laughs her hyena laugh that makes me want to bleach my ear canals. "In case you have any trouble, just come over. I learned this awesome hangover recipe from this surfer when I was in Bora Bora. It's really fetch." Herbert is our doorman, who happens to avoid her at all costs, so I have no idea how she managed to get this out of him.

I guess the reason for her clinginess is this one time when I got fucked up on E and absinth with Jasper and a few Swedish girls we met at Butter in the summer. Some of the memories are missing, but thankfully my brain function kicked back in just as I was about to go down on Chelsea, in Carlisle's office. I still get shudders when I think about it. Fuck me, sluts like this don't have pussies, they have vaginas. It looked so well used and abused, it resembled a rotting exotic flower that had been chewed out a few times before. As soon as I took a good look at it I knew there was no way my tongue was going in there, so I kind of just left her there. Now she probably thinks I'm some inexperienced schoolboy with a phobia of pussies. I only have a phobia of vaginas. There is no telling what has been in there, and I'm kinda glad she thought I was incapable of putting my dick in her. I mean, I guess I was. Unfortunately it appears she got charitable and wants to 'help me'. That's her version of being a good Christian, I guess.

"Thanks, you know in moments like these I always begin to miss my mother. I know she would have been just like you." I don't even look at her, just smile and hope the creepiness factor will turn her off. She angrily huffs, then laughs and punches the button for her floor.

"See you around, Eddie." I don't think so. But you shouldn't shit where you eat, I learned the hard way. I get out and wave to Herbie. Ted's already waiting for me with the car.

"Morning, Junior. You know, my mother always told me if you if you can act like a man at night you should be man enough in the morning too." Ted is the best. Sometimes I feel like he's the uncle I never had or the grandfather I wish I had. God knows it's hard not to hate the spoilt rich that you have to drive around like he's a fucking invalid, but he takes it in stride. Usually I prefer not to be driven around like a privileged asshole, but today I'm loosening my morals up a little.

"In your mom's day alcohol was illegal. Clearly her extensive experience allows her to say things like that."

Ted just laughs. "Point well made. A chap like you should be a little hungover on a beautiful late summer Saturday. I guess I'm just an invidious old dog."

"Already coaching me for SATs." I roll my eyes with a snicker. "It's appreciated Ted, but trust me, I don't need it."

"I won't give up so easy, junior. Where will this lovely afternoon take us?"

"The Waldorf."

"Will you be staying long?"

"God, I hope not." I think Ted is picking up on my vibes. I'm not in the mood for idle chat. Not today. Fuck my life; I really don't want to do this. Bella is always bitchier than her usual self – if that is even possible – when she comes back from Europe. Hanging out with her boring blue-blooded grandparents and other self important aristocrats makes her all fucking stuck up, which usually annoys the shit out of me.

Sometimes when she looks at me with that look in her eyes I just want to shake it out of her, or remind her of that summer camp. If Rosalie had known what kind of monster her bullying posse was about to create she would have backed the fuck off. I kind of wish I had told her to do just that. Not that she would have listened; I don't think. Bitches like that never listen to anyone until there's bloodshed; maybe not even then. Evolution doesn't seem to have occurred in their case. Before, Bella used to be so shy and timid. I remember she hid behind her nanny when we first met on some play date in the park, but kept looking at me with her huge brown eyes when she though I couldn't see her. She gave me a cookie in the end. I think she was my first crush. Either her or Lillian, a blond girl with pigtails who had pink nails, and liked to show her panties. I was pretty indecisive back then.

Whatever, Bella's shyness turned into haughtiness and an arrogant sense of entitlement. The funny thing is that it actually works, and most of the herd at school eats that shit up. It's fucking pathetic really, watching her put on that fake class act, getting other bitches to do her bidding and begging her for validation. That's just the thing: if you're a teenager you only respect people as long as they don't give you any kind of validation.

That's why her friendship with Tanya is so fucking weird. These girls are like fire and water. Tanya couldn't give two fucks about class and decency. My kind of girl. Oh well. It was that kind of thinking that got me into this motherfucking mess to begin with. I really think sex is the ultimate form of self expression for her, and she's just a helluva lot of fun, always down for crazy shit.

The rules don't apply to her either. If anyone else pulled the stuff Tanya does, she would be put down as a whore, but Tanya can get anyone to like her in two minutes. Watching her play guys like a pro is one of the most fascinating things I've ever seen. Once she got the valet to bring out a Porsche to her at club 21, telling him she lost the ticket because it was in her bra, then 'accidentally' flashed him to top it all off. The guy almost had a heart attack on the spot. Yeah, and then she got the actual owner to drop charges. That shit would be Discovery documentary material, if they actually made anything worth watching.

It's no wonder with that body. Mother of fuck, I think God or Jesus or Buddha, or whoever the fuck's in charge, molded her tits himself as an example of perfection. They just stand up like there's no gravity, like nothing can ever hold them back, looking so fucking proud and flawless. It was all God's hand, trust. And the sex; I'm not saying she is the best lay, but the only thing that comes to mind when looking for something to compare it to is Elysium. Where you lie in green fields and drink of the river which makes you forget and you're just there and happy in that moment. Tanya has no agendas or ulterior motive: she won't try and sleep over after or try to date me or announce it on twitter, she won't get jealous and neither will I. We come together in mutual appreciation of the art of fucking and it's only the good vibes that stay afterward, no awkwardness, no feelings, just release. Like a masturbation fantasy coming to life. It's every guy's dream, really.

So, obviously I've got plenty of reasons for trying to make us an item. Plus it was spring and there were all these couples and Moronic Mike and Jessica were double dating Tyler and Lauren, Jasper was feeding organic chocolate coated organic strawberries to Swann, and it seemed so good and effortless, I thought why not give it a real try. Having only dated Rosalie for three months when I was twelve as reference was getting old. Tanya was the obvious choice, since it was always so simple and easy for us. It actually took some time and effort to get Tanya to 'go steady' – I just cringe thinking about that – but when it did happen it was okay, in the beginning. Most people were surprised, but it really didn't feel different; we kissed in public and went out a few times and had more sex in the first few weeks.

Going out with Tanya was fun, but tiring. I guess it's like looking after a hyperactive five year old with ADD, always looking for trouble. So our dates ended up more like playdates where I was the frustrated nanny, looking after an idiot with a hazy grasp on self- preservation. It made my brain bleed. I didn't want to deal with Tanya in that capacity. Slowly, I realized a relationship simply meant having to deal with shit you didn't want to deal with, getting both of you frustrated because you have to deal with shit other than sex, turning your sex life to shit.

So when shit started going downhill I did what any guy would have done; I applied the continent rule. _It doesn't count as cheating i__f she's from another continent_. It's universal really. I'm not sure girls got the memo, but one of the conveniences of the continent rule is that memos tend to get lost across continents. This way everyone wins.

I had several sessions with Lita, the Australian masseuse whose ability to release tension is miraculous. Plus she looked a bit like Tanya, and when you cheat with someone who looks like your girlfriend it's not cheating, it's a tribute. She wasn't a masturbation fantasy coming to life by any standard, and I'm pretty sure she alluded to taking things to another level, but I deflected her advances pretty fucking fast with the news of my girlfriend. Lita got kind of pissed after that, and her heart just wasn't in it anymore. I was fucked. I lost my Elysium fuck buddy, and while the friends with benefits thing is popular, none of the girls grasped the concept quite like Tanya did.

And there was the myth that once you cross into a relationship with a fuck buddy there's no going back, so I was just trying to come up with a smooth exit strategy that would prove this myth wrong. The Black and White gala was the perfect opportunity; it was hosted by Swann and Tanya and it was boring as fuck. At the end of the evening Swann and I were looking for Tanya so they could go and give their speech. We stumbled upon her in the storage room, on top of her mom's then-fiancé, Laurent. At first I was kind of relieved. I wanted out, and I thought if I cut her some slack now, we could go back to being what we were, problem solved.

But master orchestrator Swann had other things to say. Bella was pissed because Tanya apparently shared all her fuck stories with her, I mean even _Jasper_. And Bella had already suspected there was something going on between her and Laurent, but Tanya kept denying it. So as it turned out, Bella felt more cheated than I did. She figured we were both poor souls played by Tanya.

Thinking back, I'm sure she sensed my lack of enthusiasm, because she started yelling that she "would not let me become the laughing stock of the whole school," and that "it was not my fault that I couldn't satisfy Tanya". She made it seem like this whole fiasco would make me look bad, which had never even occurred to me. The way she stood up for me made me apprehensive and by the end of her little rant I wanted Tanya to leave, too. Now, I think maybe if it was just me and Tanya, we could have worked it out, but Swann got me to gang up on Tanya with her. All because Tanya had lied to her. And now I have to face Tanya with all this awkwardness, and come here like Bella's motherfucking messenger. But she was right; it could have blown up in my face. You never know with Tanya.

The car slowly pulls to a stop in front of the hotel, and I try to rub the hangover out of my head one last time, but the effort is completely wasted.

"We're here, junior."

"Thank you, Ted. Actually, come to think of it, this might take a while, but if it's more than half an hour, just call me on my cell and tell me I forgot the batteries for my pacemaker at home, and that I might end up in coma if I don't get them or something."

"I'm sure I can come up with a better excuse than that."

"I don't doubt it. Just get me out of here." I get out of the car and think about having one last smoke before facing the firing squad. I wish we could resolve this in the way we usually do, but something tells me that after what went down she won't be waiting for me with legs open wide. I walk to the reception desk and wait for the concierge to finish explaining to a Thai ladyboy how long it will take for them to fill her tub with goat's milk. I want to throw up thinking about that. Finally the ladyboy leaves. The girl behind the desk is kind of hot now that I look at her more closely. She has blond hair and green eyes, and has this innocent vibe going on. I know better than to believe the vibe, but she still looks fun. I remove my glasses, flash a smile, and look deep into her eyes. It works, she looks at me for a beat too long, then catches herself and starts to fidget with something on the desk.

"How can I be of assistance, sir?" She looks back up at me with a shy smile. She must be new.

"Well, this is really awkward… but my cousin came in from Wyoming just to visit my grandma for her birthday. It's supposed to be surprise for Gran." I just keep looking into her eyes, and she stares at me, already imagining what I look like underneath this shirt. I'm onto her. "But she forgot to give me her room number and she's not answering her phone. I'm kind of worried about her; I really have no idea if she even arrived. Could you give me Tanya Denali's room number, and see if she already checked in?"

"I'm sorry, but I really can't give out that kind of info."

"I know, but I'm really worried. She made this trip here alone, just for Gran, could you please just tell me if she's checked in? It would really be a relief to know she is not in the hands of organ traders right now," I pretend to laugh uncomfortably. "I just read this awful story about them. Miss…" I look at her name tag. "Green, it would be an enormous favor that would make me your slave for life." She blushes, then looks around covertly and goes to type a few numbers. Bingo.

"She checked in yesterday, would you like to leave a message for her?" I think about it for a second, but I already know which room she's in and I'm not here to invite her to my non-existent grandmother's birthday party.

"No, I'll just email her. Thank you very much."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"We actually have wireless in the lobby, and it's free, so you can use it and you could stay here, you know, as long as you want. And, you can come to me with any questions you might have." Her smile is genuine and honest. She seems like a nice girl, but I must not get sidetracked; plus, chances are she'll find out really soon Tanya is no hillbilly from Wyoming.

"Thank you, I think that's exactly what I'll do."

I walk out of her line of sight towards the elevators. This place is a bit too preppy for my taste, but I still have to admit it's pretty fucking fantastic as far as hotels go. We always have some black tie party here around Christmas time, and this place always gets me kinda nostalgic, even if most of the time those parties are boring as fuck until we take it elsewhere.

I press the elevator button and get in with an old couple. The woman is going on about some opera and the guy looks like even the thought of a night there causes him physical agony. Poor old fart, he could be driving around town in his midlife-crisis-mobile, getting barely legal gold-diggers mud wrestle over him and all the plastic cards he has to offer. Instead he's stuck here with this wrinkly old hag, who forces him to go to places no straight men go voluntarily without the promise of some decent ass, and that doesn't seem to be in the cards for him tonight. That guy's as good as dead if you ask me. I know if I were him, I'd feel like that. I wonder when that point comes when you just give in and say fuck it, I don't care about all the ass I could get. I'll never understand. Please god, let me never understand.

We reach the eleventh floor, and I throw one last sympathetic glance at the dude. Tough life, man.

I think Tanya was expecting me to show up; that's why she came here. She knows I'm not fond of this place. I assess myself one last time. Maybe if I catch her in a very good mood, things might even get a bit hot and heavy. I can hope, but I should definitely expect the worst. I knock on her door once. No answer. I knock again, a bit louder this time. I really don't want to look like the idiot who stands outside the door knocking for half an hour. Maybe she's not here. Just as I'm about to leave, wishing I got more out of the concierge chick, the door opens. It's not Tanya, but a skinny, pale dude who oozes the odor of fetid cheese and weed. Well, some things haven't changed. Tanya wastes no time.

"Hey, man. Whadya want, dude?"

"I want to speak to Tanya."

"Yeah, okay." He scratches his stomach and I notice the top button on his jeans is undone. This, apparently, is my welcoming committee from Tanya. "I forgot, dude, what did you say, who are you?"

"I'm her mother," I sneer, waiting for his two active brain cells to kick in. "Seriously, why the fuck do you care? And who the hell are _you_?"

"It's okay, Dorian. I told you Eddie and I have to hand in that biology project for the extra points." Tanya appears in a white dress, which showcases her tits perfectly. Maybe she doesn't hold grudges after all. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking.

I think I'm about to find out.

* * *

**Reviewers get a teaser from two chapters ahead, from the stalker's blog. I'm kind of disappointed there has been only one question submitted to the stalker to be answered, I thought people would be more interested.**

**Now, go read Dee12's Election. It is brilliant in oh so many ways. I might or might not have asked her yesterday to sign my boobs. That's how brilliant. Go read. **

**After you've reviewed. Thank you gals, you know that reviews keep me going and without them I might just run out of steam.**

**Go on and ask me why I've proustified Bella's name. I dare you ;)**


	5. In a big, big world

******PLEASE READ: If you have triggers to the following: underage drinking, underage drug use, underage sex, swearing and eating disorders, please find something else to read. This is rated M for a reason. I am not a babysitter.**

**Sorry for the delay my handful of faithful readers (you know who you are :) but I have exams and today I had the most difficult one so I couldn't post yesterday. I hope I passed but this is so effing difficult you're just never sure. I hope you won't be turned off by the Apov. I promise she's not a shopaholic pixie. And this Bella would rather sew her own clothes from used salvation army bedsheets than let Alice dress her. Just so we're clear on that.**

**I need to thank my angel of a masterbeta, storytellerslie for her efforts, the marvelous marvar, literary genius KCerena, Savannah-vee and pre-reader h32mh32m who puts my ghetto ass Cinderella of a story in its pumpkin carriage. And all the people who encourage me to keep doing this; I can't thank you enough. I couldn't do this without you.**

**Also, the Marvelous Chicklette agreed to pre-read. If you're very canon and don't want to be, try reading Get me to You. That fic is sheer brilliance and might just convert you.**

**Can you imagine owning Edward Cullen? Even for a day? I don't think I'd have time for fanfic if I did own him. I wouldn't have time for anything. But sadly he ain't mine. Neither is Gossip Girl. I make no money.**

* * *

**Alice Brandon**

I really like this dress. I look hot; I know I do but… I'm about to enter a viper's nest. I know I'm cute and even sweet when I feel like it and I've never had any problem making friends, but I can't help feeling this won't be the same. I turn and look at myself in the mirror from a different angle. Yep, definitely a winner. This dress with its turquoise faded babyblueish color and ivory lace beading is to die for. I remember how proud I was when I stumbled upon it on one of our usual Saturday thrift shop expeditions, back in Seattle.

I know now I could afford more expensive dresses, like a month ago my new 'daddy's' assistant handed me a black Amex, and when I asked her what the limit was she said I shouldn't worry. Yes, he asked me to call him daddy, and yes, I've been given every shopaholic's wet dream. I'm acting like this little black piece of plastic is a voucher for a root canal appointment at the dentist with Parkinson's. I just can't seem to make myself to accept Daddy Douchebag's money. Caius is a sleazy sixty year old Italian, who dresses like a gigolo, uses entirely too much fake tan and treats me like I'm mom's lapdog. I guess the way to get back at him would be to try and find out about that limit, but I can't help but feel… I don't know… dirty about spending that money? It doesn't make sense, I know. But I don't want him to buy me off.

Whatever.

I guess he has already bought me off. I mean, if it weren't for him, we sure as hell wouldn't be living in this apartment that practically occupies the whole floor, nor would I be having a room that looks like Barbie threw up in here; a four poster bed with frilly pink curtains, baby blue carpet and a golden chandelier. Ugh. Not to mention I'd never I be able to attend St. Forks Catholic Preparatory High School. It seemed like the perfect setting for preppy assholes' ego stoking orgies, based on the brochure.

Maybe I'm judging prematurely. I did promise mom to try and stay positive about this.

I was late for registration, so I missed all the mixers and various shit that would allow me to get some kind of a read on my future classmates, not that I don't have an idea. The principal, Mr. Jameson, who has the balls to call himself 'dean', only had nice things to say, like it was Mother Teresa's turf or something. I'm no tracking dog but I know bullshit when I smell it.

During this summer I discovered dying of boredom is not just melodramatic hyperbole. I tried to strike up a conversation with two other teenage girls living on our block, maybe get them to come with me and try to exhaust the Amex. I would have been willing to stay in and knit with them all day if that's what they were into, but they treated me like a window licker on release day from psych ward. So yeah, I know this will be anything but a joyride.

Also, the dean gave me a few email addresses of my classmates. At first, I thought it was the lamest thing, writing them some weirdo email asking them to be my friends on the first day of school. But since my mom wouldn't allow me to spend the summer in Seattle, and my best friend, Michelle, could only come here for a week, those addresses became more and more tempting. So at the risk of seeming like the biggest sorry ass loser before even setting foot in the school, I sent out a few emails. Keeping it casual, trying desperately not to seem desperate. I only sent it to a few girls whose names sounded nice. My brain was kind of foggy the moment I decided to pick them out based one the name alone, emailing the ones wit the 'nice sounding names'. I take no responsibility. No one replied, so after a lot of thinking I sent out another round to a slightly less nice sounding group. Angela Weber answered.

She was a surprisingly cool girl who empathized with my situation. She came here from Arizona and understood what it was like to reach a level of boredom where you actually try and reenact Spiderman climbing walls. And she told it like it is. We went out to eat and to shop a few times, me only using my mom's allowance. She said that all that bullshit about the school being free of cliques and hierarchy was just that, bullshit. She told me how while most of the boys were nice and polite, they were entitled rich assholes, but great at hiding it. I think we became friends but I was kind of wary. It was one evening last week, while sitting in Central Park, drinking our smoothies and grading guys passing by on a 1 to 10 scale, when she suddenly got serious.

"I want to warn you, you really have to look out Alice. You'll be the new girl, and people could get… very interested in you."

"But that's good, isn't it? I like to hang out. I don't want to become cornered into some lame-sorority-mean girls wannabe clique."

"Yeah, that's not what I mean. People, girls especially, will just test you. It happened to me and it sucked." She looked at me with an apologetic look which I hated. "I mean, considering the category they have put you in will obviously be..."

"I'm already categorized?" I just laughed. "They haven't even met me." A hot blond guy wearing white shirt bicycled past. "That's a nine."

"More like eight. Yeah, but you're new to money, very new and have it because of your mom, who's not even married. Look, I don't know anything about her, but you'll be put down as gold digger spawn, which basically means you're not here to stay."

I was kind of speechless. I wanted to say that my mom's not a gold digger or that she just got tired. She's been working her ass off ever since she had me at sixteen. It's always been just the two of us with her dating her way trough the trash Seattle had to offer. I don't like everything about the new situation but I get it. She wanted some security, someone to be there for her and take care of her financially and emotionally for a change, and she really does like Caius, most of the time. Maybe she took the easy way out, but I can't find it in myself to blame her for it.

"I'm sorry, really, but people will know these things and judge you because of it. Who your parents are is important. But, hey, I'll make sure you have the right friends, and then no one will start with you. She looked up at the next guy passing by. "The one with the ice cream is a seven." I didn't know if that was Angela's attempt at taking a jab at me, or if she was genuine. I only knew I wanted to trust her.

"I kind of expected it to be like this. And he was a seven alright."

"You'll be okay. I'll introduce you to Vic and Eric. And then you can meet Bella. If you have the queen bitch on your side, no one will fuck with you, gold digger spawn or not."

"Who are Vic and Eric? And Bella?"

"Well, Victoria Kaspunenko is the fiercest bitch one day and an X rated Disney princess the next, and Eric Yorkie is kind of a self proclaimed misfit queen on the lookout for a crown." She looked at me and laughed. "They'll be in our class, and you'll love them and they'll love you." She absently waves with her hand and rolls her eyes. "I can just feel it. We are kind of good friends with Bella, who is dubbed as the queen bitch but she's really not that bad. She only transforms into uberbitch when provoked or when she gains weight… or when she has PMS, or when her boyfriend, Jasper Whitlock, does something stupid, when they run out of her shoe size or when... well, pretty often. But don't tell me self-important queen bees and their drama aren't fun to hang around. You just have to keep them on your good side."

"I don't know. I always, like, hated girls like that." I did, and I didn't want to start my year by trying to get 'on the good side' of some self important shrew who thinks her daddy's accomplishments make her superior. That was when I started to get the impression that Angela might just be a minion.

"Well, this is a small school. There aren't that many girls to hang out with, and I don't think many people like her, but she pretty much has everyone in awe of her or under her thumb. You should meet her. Come on, you're already _judging_ her!" We giggled, but on the inside I was thinking Angela was definitely a minion and that if you're a 'queen bee' you are just begging for people to judge you prematurely. I

I spotted a guy in khaki pants and a casual shirt. He had nerdy glasses, but definitely gave off a hot-nerd vibe. "He's a seven." Angela looked up and froze for a minute. Then she flushed and started to squirm.

"Oh shit. I haven't even washed my hair today. Alice, please tell me I don't look like shit!" Well, for the record, she looked anything but. She was wearing tiny denim shorts that revealed her long bronze legs and a short sleeved shirt that was white and see through enough to reveal her white bra.

"You look fantastic."

"I'm wearing flip-flops for fucks sake, like some Project Runway reject the day after. God, I knew we should have stayed in the café. Just look away, and pretend you don't even notice him." I was sitting next to this bronze goddess, who was freaking out because someone might see her in flip-flops. I keep having this inner debate with myself if I'm shallow or not, but she's starting to make me feel like the Dalai Lama.

The guy looked towards us and recognition sparked in his eyes and made his way over, smiling.

"Hey, Ang! How the bloody hell are you?" he says, flashing a grin and turning to me. "And who might you be, sweetheart?" He looked kind of dorky with the glasses, but he had a British accent and was so laid back and just so I-don't-give-a-damn. Kinda like young Jude Law in Mr. Ripley. Hello Mr. Ripley.

"Hey, Ben." Angela was anxiously tucking her hair behind her ear and tried to twist her legs under her, but then she snapped out of it and looked him in the eyes with a smile. "This is the new girl who'll be joining our class. Alice Brandon. Alice, this is Ben Cheney. We were just about to leave, so…"

"Hardly notorious. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Alice." He looked at me with eyes that burned into me and looked at me… like they might know things about me I didn't. He reached for my hand and traced circles on it with his thumb rather than shake it. Wow. _I might just like this new place after all_ – I thought to myself. "Hey, Alice, from wonderland, do you by any chance like Brit music, something like-"

"Ben, stop it," Angela interrupted our moment. I couldn't help feel this annoyed at her. "We're having a girl's night out. Just fuck off." She looked so pissed off, like she could spit nails at him, possibly directed at the crotch area. Ben just looked at her, smirked, and laughed.

"See you around, Alice. Remember, if you want to hang out and listen to decent music…" He trailed off suggestively, looking into my eyes the whole time, then he slowly turned and walked off, shaking his head, and getting what looked like a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket.

I couldn't understand. Why the fuck would she do that? Well, lesson one learned before I was even on school grounds. I shouldn't hang out with Angela when hot guys might hit on me. _There is definitely hope for me_, I thought to myself bitterly.

"Alice, I just did you a favor." She huffed, anticipating what I wanted to say. "Ben would have had a field day with getting the honor of being first to hit that if you went over to see his music producer dad's impressive record and guitar collection, which I guess is reason enough to go. You would have enjoyed it too, but it would be all over school. He doesn't exactly do the relationship thing. And he likes to gloat." She got a packet of Camel out of her handbag. "I'd know." She got a cigarette out, flicked the lighter on with practiced moves and lit it. "Would you like one?" she asked, exhaling smoke from her mouth in a whoosh. And I suddenly felt like a bitch. That was the moment I started to believe Angela might have been trying to help me.

"No, I don't smoke. I'm sorry. It's just, I don't… I tend to trust people. So… I'm sorry. I guess he's a shithead if he did that to you…" I said, making a smart observation. We just sat there, and she just kept on smoking. It was a bit chilly and I started to feel cold. But in summer the evening cold is always different. Somehow better.

"You have to look out for guys. The ones like Ben think everyone's a slut, but they… they can appreciate you if you have the right kind of friends. Which in your case would mean Bella and The Company."

"Her posse is called the company?" I asked, a little bit amused. Talk about underhanded concepts…

"Yeah. If you sleep around, you're a slut. Unless you're with the right people. Lauren Mallory, for example, has touched more dicks than doorknobs. But it's okay, because she's popular and everyone knows how efficient she is at spreading rumors. And if word gets out you're easy, the guys will flock to you, but only to fuck you and treat you like shit afterward, because with you they can. Trust me, after the first week all this becomes obvious, but by then you are fucked. In more ways than one." I just sat there baffled out of my mind. So I asked the most mundane question.

"Wait, _that_ Mallory? The singer?"

"Yeah, it's her mom. You'll probably meet her too; she is a self-a- bsorbed skinny bitch who is desperate for people to notice her but of course pretends otherwise. Actually, her daughter's not much different either."

"Wow." Tina Mallory. International icon. That's crazy. But then I remembered what I'm most curious about. "So if Ben did that to you, how did you, you know, manage not to become a social outcast?"

"Well, I guess you'll know soon enough, so I might as well tell you." She put out the cigarette on the arm of the bench and threw it towards the garbage.

"I was a pariah, but then on Bella's 16th birthday party things changed. Lauren and Rosalie called me and convinced me they wanted me to come too. I know I was stupid, but they seemed so nice and things were so bad at that time that I would take even any chance I could get. I mean I had literally no one to talk to. Anyway, Bella has a serious virginal hard on for Marie Antoinette, she, like, adores her." She got out another cigarette and lit it. "So the theme was obviously Versailles with masques and everything, and it was held at the Waldorf. Of course, guys hated the idea, but eventually they all kind of went with it.

So anyway, we got ready with Lauren and Rosalie and then got into the limo. We went inside and when we entered the ballroom… well, I really wished I didn't let Ben go down on he in his dad's sound studio." She was taking deep drags every now and then from her cigarette, not looking at me. I don't really understand so I look at her questioningly. "The mic was on apparently. When we entered it just started blasting from the stereos." I wanted to hug her, but I wasn't sure if that was okay.

I was too shell-s- hocked to say anything smart. I never thought people were nice here, but I had no idea it was this bad.

"Bella looked really pissed at first. I mean, I don't know how long I stood there like I was… frozen or something. Maybe she thought I sabotaged her birthday party on purpose. But then suddenly she was all smiles and said 'now is when the real party starts', and then they started playing club music after that. Then she just told me aloud she was glad I finally arrived, hugged me and then led me to her suite. I had never even talked to her before. I was so scared she was going to humiliate me even more, but she just asked me how it happened. I guess she expected something like that from Rosalie, and said that she was sorry I had to go through it and that the party had sucked before anyway. We even talked about Marie Antoinette. Bella got this charm for her birthday which had apparently belonged to her. Her mom's ex boyfriend is some kind of hotshot at Sotheby's, so she always gets cool stuff like that. She always wears it on her necklace. Anyway, she was actually nice after that and her party is the stuff of legend now. From that day on, I became her 'protégé'." She snickers at the last word, putting out her cigarette on the bench.

"Wow. That sucks."

"Yeah. It did. I just wanted to tell you that I know what it's like to be on the wrong side. My dad is not very rich, but his company pays my tuition, and I'm trusting by nature so I didn't start out on the right foot. I just don't want anyone to go through the same… shit."

"Okay. I trust you, Angela."

Thinking back to that conversation, I'm scared shitless. I'm about to meet Angela's friends, and then the cunning queen bee herself, whose idol is the only woman who can make My Super Sweet Sixteen look like a trailer park low budget birthday bash. I mean, I had read that Marie Antoinette was gambling away millions and partying her way through life, buying castles wherever she liked while her subjects were starving. Plus, she got beheaded by an angry mob. Bella should choose her idols more carefully. I guess what she did for Angela was nice, but I don't think she really did it for Angela or _just _for her anyway.

I adjust my makeup one last time; Angela warned me Bella says it's really cheap to adjust your makeup in public, so I shouldn't do it. I want to start out right at least, but I still have no intention of groveling at her feet.

"Hey, honey, Angela's here." My mom comes in and sits down on my bed. "Who are you all dressed up for? Meeting some guys with Angela?" She smiles at me and appears curious. Too curious. I get it, she's also kind of bored here, and it's not easy for her to make friends. I kind of hoped she would get on with my classmates' moms, but it doesn't seem very likely at this point. For a start, she's never been to the Hamptons and never had Botox; she really has a hard time finding things in common with them.

"No, just some of her girlfriends. And a boy too, but he's probably gay. I just want to look good."

"You look fantastic, honey. Have fun. Do you want to maybe watch a movie tonight? We could even go out. You know, it's your last weekend before school starts."

"We'll see, mom. I don't know when I'll get back."

"Please come back by ten. I don't want you out late."

"It's Saturday night, Mom. Please, I can't tell them I have to be home by ten."

"New York is a big city and it's dangerous. Please be home by midnight at the latest. And call me if you're going to be late. I'll be waiting up for you." Of course you will. At times like this I wish mom did fit in with the gold digger crowd, then she would have more to do and could be a bit more chill.

"Okay, I'll have my cell with me." I hear the bell ring, so I throw my white Guess purse under my arm; it's the best one I have. I kind of wish I'd bought something flashier. Too late now. "I'll call you, bye Mom." I kiss her on her cheek and I'm out the door.

"Hey, Ang!" She is wearing a frilly white dress and kitten heels with a perfectly coifed hairdo held together by a barrette. She looks totally country club approved.

"Hey, Alice! Lets go, we're meting at Victoria's place." We start to walk and laugh about overbearing mothers along the way. She says her mom checks her eyes every time she comes home.

"So I always have Visine on me. I think she knows about the smokes. I mean, I always use a perfume to try and cover it up, but my parents aren't complete idiots. But there's not much they can do. I mean, pretty much everyone does it. It's a rite of passage and only cool as long as it's illegal anyway."

I think aloud. "I only tried cigarettes once and I almost fainted. Besides, since I know all the nasty stuff it does, I don't think I would ever be able to do it."

"There are nastier things than getting hooked on cigarettes." We keep walking and I'm glad I wore my ballet flats, because I sure as hell wouldn't be able to balance all these blocks in heels. I see the park before we get out to 5th. It looks greener after the morning shower. We turn onto the avenue and walk a few blocks until we stop in front of a huge townhouse which extends for 50 feet down the street. It appears to be about four floors. The front is brick and limestone with a huge entrance complete with two marble columns.

"Wow. Is it only her and her family living here?"

"Yep. Her dad is a Russian oligarch who owns some kind of state-company in the former USSR. This is one of the last grand 5th avenue mansions; it was all over the papers when he bought it. Pretty sweet, huh? She has the best parties when she can get her parents out." She rings the doorbell and a guy in a suit opens it up, and greets her with a relieved smile. It's beautifully spacious, but the gilded statues and ostentatiously baroque furniture make it seem less elegant and a little tackier than it appears to be on the outside.

We walk up the stairs leading to the first floor. "Her mom is a German or Swedish supermodel. Or singer. I don't know. She's gone most of the time, and so is her dad. It's The Babushka who's difficult to get rid of." I'm just about to ask what a babushka is when I hear screaming in what I guess to be Russian. Then a beautiful girl with plump lips, red curly hair and crystal blue eyes storms out of one of the rooms. She really looks like a porcelain doll thanks to her features and coloring, even though she is frowning and appears visibly pissed. She is wearing an ice blue lacy chemise and robe. She turns back to someone shouting in the room and shouts back.

"_Kooshi govno e oomree, pizda staraya_!" She notices us at us and freezes for a moment then laughs. "Sorry. You must be Alice. You better get used to this; Babushka gets on my nerves so much I swear I could scale the fucking walls any minute now."

"_Yeban'ko maloletnee_!" a shrill voice screams out of the same room. She can't be described as anything but an old wrinkly hag. She's wearing a ridiculous lacy housecoat and her face looks like she raided the free sample MAC stand. Her wig is on a bit sideways and she has a cigarette holder in one of her hands. When she sees us she straightens up, reigning in her composure, and giving us a leveled stare. "Sorry, gyrls tell Vicatoria to no mannirs!" Then she slams the door.

"Yeah, that was my Grandma, don't mind her." Victoria raises her voice to a shout and turns towards her room. "She is an old shrew suffering from senile dementia, _tolstak_!" Suddenly, loud jazz music blasts out from behind the doors. "She understands a lot but she says she's too old to learn a new language at her age," says Victoria, rolling her eyes as she starts to walk up the stairs and we follow. "Thank fucking god. I don't know what I'd do if she was able to communicate with normal people, too. But then again, maybe she wouldn't invite all those crazy Russian hags over and cook awful smelling food and try to dry whole fishes in the pantry. Jesus Christ, have you seen the kind of food those people eat? It's fucking disgusting, the sick ways they violate fish. They put them away in a jar for the winter or dry them whole and try to eat them after, like, months. I don't know how they do it. Does she speak, Angela or have you finally found the mute confidante we've always dreamed of?"

I'm so shocked that I don't really know what to say.

"I speak."

"Well, she speaks, of course, cut her some slack. Not everyone begins their Saturday with Babushka bashing." Angela defends me and laughs.

"Yeah, she wakes me up at eight because she says I have to go with her to church since she found this nice Russian guy there who said he would take me out on a date. Then she gives me all this crap about knowing that I'm fooling around, but that she will change it, and that sleeping with a lot of guys is like eating a can of beans and not knowing which one makes you fart." We get into her very girly room with antique furniture, a huge baldachin bed, and plush pink carpet and I just burst out laughing. Victoria is totally funny and random with her crazy Gran; I think I like her already.

"My grandma told me once never to touch a one eyed snake when I was like, eleven. I didn't understand for a while. I thought she was going gaga," I say.

"Babushka is way past that. She thinks mom is her masseuse sometimes. I mean, last time she started undressing when she came into her room. I guess those are the better days; on others she calls her a whore and tells her she has a life-sucking vagina. It's lucky mom doesn't really understand."

"Finally, you silly bitch it was about time your Babushka…" A very carefully groomed Asian guy comes out of the closet in tight pants holding up two handbags and when he sees me he stops in his tracks. He looks me up and down then turns to Angela. "Hi, Angela! Oh my god, you look so skinny. Did you lose weight?" he asks, looking at Angela smiling. She just smiles back and rolls her eyes as Eric looks back at me again. "Finally, the Alice is here. Girl, you are really lucky to have run into us. Would it be cheesy to say welcome to Wonderland?" He turns towards Victoria with his question.

"Of course it would, faghole. Way to be original. Whatever, we were just talking about Bella's pictures of the Ascot week on Facebook. Oh my god, I still can't believe she went."

"What's the Ascot week?" I feel a bit of an idiot, but I don't want to be a chicken and not ask, or better yet pretend to know and be revealed as a lying moron.

"It's the week the royal family attend the horse races at Ascot. It's like the social event of the summer with all these crème de la crème people meeting, comparing clothing and exchanging gossip. Or so I was told," Angela quips in.

"Is Bella British?"

"Well, half. Her dad is going to be an earl once his father dies." Wow. Is her dad waiting for her granddad to _die_? "Somebody told me she is actually related to the queen. She has a British passport and everything, and she spends Christmas and Easter with her grandparents in England, even though her parents divorced when she was three."

Victoria is clearly going fangirl on little Miss Princess's ass. I wonder why, I mean, she clearly has everything and I'm pretty sure she could go to that horse race too if she wanted to.

We start looking at the pictures on her computer. Bella is a pretty brown haired girl in a perfectly tailored dress with a matching hat. She's probably too skinny, and is standing around in the pictures with women wearing hats. Like everyone around her she looks bored out of her mind.

"That's cool, but I bet she was bored to death," I say. Angela laughs, Victoria scoffs and Eric doesn't take his eyes off the screen.

"Yeah, right. I'm sure you would've been bored." Victoria looks at me condescendingly. "But it's kind of a big deal to go there and mingle with these people. I mean, with her grandparents it's a legacy thing, but still. Gah, look at that dress. Is it Valentino?"

"No, obviously not. She told me she had it tailored just for that occasion. At least for the first day. Maybe it's Roland Mouret? She told me she loves him. Wait, is that the first day?" They kind of obsess over the computer and start yammering about all the little details of the queen bee's dress choices.

Angela and I look at each other and smile. "Well, I was kind of expecting this."

"What?" I ask, absentmindedly looking through Victoria's room. It's girly almost to the point of it being kitsch. She has a shelf full of porcelain dolls in beautifully colorful dresses. A goatherd with curly blond hair, a princess in a dark blue gown and silver tiara, a little clown doll and lots more. A little army of Victorias, I think to myself. It's pretty grotesque. Something about sleeping in the same room with so many scary dolls freaks me out.

"Well, she would throw people a bone before school year starts. I guess she is reestablishing her status by posting these pictures of being at the hottest social events during summer, reminding people why she's still running the show," says Ang, breaking me out of my reverie.

"This is totally boring!" I just scoff. The 'hottest' event of summer? "Why would anyone care that she was there with all those dull people who look like they've already been mummified? You showed me pictures of Lauren Mallory yesterday, and she was hanging out with that hot guy from that pirate movie. Don't tell me this is hotter than _that_."

"Bella is different. She just has this fixation with being classy. She was hanging out with royalty in Europe during the summer; I guess it's her way of showing off. If you are filthy rich, people like celebrities will associate themselves with you gladly, so that's way too easy. The only crowd that will not accept you just because you have money is the blue bloods." I look at the screen and Bella is in a bikini with two guys and a girl, standing on a balcony with a beautiful blue sea in the background. Her smile looks good, if a little rehearsed. It's the same one that appears in most of the pictures.

"Oh my God, that was actually taken in Monaco. Is that Prince fucking Pierre!" I think Victoria is starting to hyperventilate.

"Holy shit! Still, she should have gone for the hotter one!" Eric and Victoria are squealing like two pre-teen schoolgirls but then Victoria remarks something about one of them having a girlfriend. Angela just laughs and rolls her eyes, getting out a cigarette and lighting it.

"Put that bitch out! Last time Babuska called dad when she smelled smoke in here. I can only use the senile dementia excuse for so long." Angela just rolls her eyes and drops the cigarette into a water glass on the table.

"You know, the funny thing is, these New York high society people say these titles and stuff are stupid, and that they're above that but as soon as they meet someone with one, they get green with envy. It's kind of hilarious to watch." Angela is obviously just standing by and enjoying the perfect view we have of this bunch of self absorbed idiots. And these are the only two I've seen. I think I get it. "You know, Rosalie has ancestors on her mother's side who signed the declaration of independence and the Hales were one of those families who founded the Plymouth colony. Bella's family, the Higginbothams had some colony in Vermont or New Hampshire, plus there is her English earl dad. She and Bella had this ongoing, unspoken war about who was classier and more worthy to be queen, but then in freshmen year, it just stopped. No one knows why, but Rosalie kind of gave in and accepted Bella, even though she still tries to fuck with her every now and then. Her mom thinks Bella is perfection personified; Mrs. Hale swoons over her every time they meet and everyone knows how she adores her. I guess her mom is just a sucker for royalty. Someone told me she's obsessed with Grace Kelly. Or maybe she thinks Bella is that great. Who knows?"

"That's fucking fantastic. So in order for me to be popular, I have to bring in a chart of my family tree the first day of school? I think I can go down to like three generations. How far will that get me?" Ang and I giggle and lie back on Victoria's very Barbie princess bed.

"Not very far. Anyway, most of the people are just rich, but of course they dream about getting in the good graces of the few wasps who attend St. Forks. And if you have the right friends there is no stopping you!" Suddenly the bed shakes as Eric jumps on it, lying next to us.

"And who would that be, you, Ang? Bitch, please, you can't tell Pucci from Gucci. You need a friend like me, Alice. Angie isn't so bad either. But don't trust her with shoes; she actually has several pairs of flip-flops that she sometimes wears _in public_. You might as well walk up to a blind man and ask for fashion advice. At least you'll get an even 50 percent chance of him getting it right. No such luck with you Angie, huh?"

"Hey, I got much better. Look, I'm totally fab now."

"I guess you'll do. But still, those shoes… you are totally clueless, aren't you?" Ang just punches him in the arm a little. "Ouch! The truth should hurt you, Angie, not me!" We just lie there for a few seconds in silence, when Eric suddenly asks, "So what about that blog? Have you read anything interesting on it?"

"Come on, Eric, you _know_ what bullshit they say all the time. Like that shit about Bella only eating solid food every second day. That is totally untrue, and so is most of the shit on there." Victoria rolls her eyes as if the eating patterns of lil' Miss Princess were common knowledge to everyone.

"Well, I don't know; it could be true. She doesn't really eat period, so I guess they are being kind of generous assuming she actually eats_ that _often." Eric seems to be contemplating the question at hand.

"I saw her eat with Jasper the day before her birthday party, and then at her party she ate a slice of the cake. So it's all a bunch of BS. Plus that 'insider info' about Tanya doing a porno movie? She is still underage and it's not like they would get, Michael Bay on that movie who does million dollar blockbusters otherwise. I don't even know who thinks it's anything other than a joke." Victoria seems to concentrate on doing something with her nails as she is discussing this.

"I mean, on the finer points it's off most of the time, but the blogger does seem to know where people are," Ang throws in her two cents.

"Oh god, Ang. Don't tell me you're reading that shit too." Why does Victoria hate his blog so much?

"Well, it is fun, if nothing else. Have you read the last update? Apparently Edward and Jasper had a threesome with someone."

"You gotta admit Vic, that doesn't seem far fetched," says Eric, looking imploringly at Victoria. She just harrumphs and grumbles something to herself. "I would kill to be in that bitch's pumps. Heed my words, girls, the time of experimentation is near for those two, I can feel it. And when it's here, Queen Eric, the fantabulous will be there to lend a hand. Or a tongue. Or an an-"

"Okay, Eric. Please stop before you jizz all over my bed," Victoria snaps. "Jeez, I call you here to help me pick a bag and help me get laid tonight, and all you get is wood on my bed that has noting to do with me. It's just fucking rude."

"Come on, Vic. We have a mutual interest in those disco sticks. Hell, you've even taken rides on them, so if someone should be all prissy and pissy it should be me. And I told you that you should take the Miu Miu one. I don't care what you say, you totally are a Miu Miu kind of girl."

"I'm just so fucking bored of it. Plus it's too juvenile; I want to be, like, more mature this year." She comes over to the bed with a magazine in her hand, which I now notice has a few post-its in it and pictures circled. "So I decided to change my style and _that_ is why I invited you over, but you were too busy rubbing yourself all over your crackberry about Edward and Jasper having a threesome with some skank to hear me. Will-you-listen-to-me-now?" she asks, hitting Eric with the magazine repeatedly.

"Okay, okay. I think you should go with the Chanel then, obviously. You know those Proenza Schouler handbags are pretty awesome too. But I don't know, I just don't see you with one. Not your style."

"_Thank you_. Now, was that so hard? Alice, Eric is the most helpful glittery gay style adviser you can find; just make sure there is no pretty guy around with a big dick, because then he gets like Ironman in a magnetic storm. Just can't handle it, can you?" she asks, smiling mischievously at Eric. He just smiles and moves his tongue at her in very, very obscene ways.

"Weren't we supposed to be over at Bella's place by 3?" Angela asks, effectively breaking up their two person stand up act.

"Yes, shit." Victoria starts running around. "My hair is done, I just didn't know about the shoes and the bag. I think I'll just take that Chanel hobo then, okay Eric?" Eric just nods, rolling his eyes as she disappears into her closet.

"Victoria needs to get L-A-I-D," he sings quietly to himself.

"I thought she had a pretty active summer," Angela says, propping herself up on her elbow, turning to him with unmistakable interest sparking in her eyes. Eric just snorts.

"Sweetie, her tongue and jaw had an active summer, not her. She is so giving, you know, it's kind of sad to watch. She's going about this whole getting a boyfriend business all wrong. She lets it all hang out when a guy shows a teeny little interest. Yesterday I had to talk to her for three hours because Tyler changed his status on Facebook five minutes after she uploaded a picture of herself in a bikini with one of her cousins. Only Tyler doesn't know he is her cousin – nobody else does for that matter – so she thought that the status change must have something to do with her." Eric just sighs, shaking his head. "I feel kind of sorry for her, bursting these little bubbles of delusion, but then again, she doesn't listen to me anyway. She's convinced he is still interested."

"Who's Tyler?"

"You'll see soon enough, sweetie," Eric says, glancing towards the closet where Victoria is changing. "Just stay away. I don't want to have to analyze his actions on Facebook in that length ever again as long as I live, no matter how hot the guy is."

"But she was always going on about how she hated him in the first place," Angela says, looking a bit confused. "For, like, almost the whole of last year."

"Yeah, I know. But come on this is Victoria we are talking about. Anyway, teenage girls and logic just don't look good in the same sentence, ya know?" Eric says conversationally to Ang.

"Yeah, I know, I just wish she didn't do this," Angela says, sighing and leaning back.

"C'mon Ang, who are you to judge? At least she is going out there, having fun while you sit in silence, licking your ancient, pathetic Ben Cheney wounds. Which is totally unattractive by the way. I mean, just because you choked on a dick doesn't mean you should give it up entirely."

"I don't know, I still feel allergic."

"Whatevs, bitch. You should get back on that horse before your hymen grows back and the next guy needs a map, a bushwhacker and a degree in archeology to get in. I don't want to involve Indiana Jones in a new quest so soon; we all know he's pretty out of it."

"Stop talking about my vagina, Eric." He just shudders.

"You know I hate that word."

"Vagina, vagina, vagina," I say. Ang giggles and Eric just covers his ears, then he grins an evil grin and narrows his eyes at me, snapping his teeth together audibly. He looks kinda scary.

"Stop saying that word. It makes me criiiiinge."

"It's where we all came from," Angela says matter of factly. Eric just shudders again.

"If I must, I'll let you know I was delivered by a stork in a white Hermés shawl, right to the doorstep of Ms. Yorkie. She still has the shawl to prove it." He just drops back on the bed. "So, Alice. Tell me your story. How did you end up in this marvelous metropolis? And in St. Forks High of all places?"

"My mom got together with Caius."

"Yeah, that we know."

"You do?" I ask incredulous.

"Of course. For one, we have Ang here and she can't keep a secret to save the life of a baby seal." I feel really uncomfortable about Ang spilling our private conversations to Eric, even if he seems cool. "Nothing too detailed, of course," he says as if sensing my unease, "We all know the basics but would love to know more. Everyone knows you're a gold digger's baby girl. No offense, of course, I _love_ gold diggers. They are the fieriest girls and the fiercest bitches out there. There would be a lot less entertainment without them. There are no gladiator fights anymore, but seeing one go down is way better than any cougar on man action in an arena. I might get one for fun when I'm a bit older."

"What would Victoria say to you hooking up with another girl?" I ask with narrowed eyes, but then I can't hold back my giggle. I guess taking him seriously would probably cause me way more headache than I can handle.

"A fag hag is for life; a gold digger is for leisure. Plus they won't complain just because I'm gay. Which I totally am, by the way, if you haven't already figured that out."

"Yeah, it was kind of hard to miss. And if you're trying to keep it a secret, you suck at that." Eric just laughs.

"Hmmm, no, I think when I arrived at kindergarten with a bunch of Barbies and a pink horse, prancing around to the tune of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang playing in my head, it became pretty obvious to everyone."

"The song playing in my head was the theme song of My Little Pony," I say. Eric and I talk about his kindergarten days and mine and how we developed a crush on John Smith when we saw Pocahontas for the first time. "I mean, he was so fucking hot. Hands down the hottest Disney prince ever." He just nods frantically but is interrupted by Ang before he can say anything.

"He wasn't even a prince."

"Whatever, Ang. With an ass and hair like that he gets free reign over my nether regions," says Eric.

"Yeah, he was totally hot!" I say, because he was.

"I know, right? Totally fabulous. And that bitch let him go."

"What?"

"Yeah, in, like, the second part she was all over the dick of this other dude because he saved a bear. What. A. Slut. I actually don't mind sluts but she was a dumb one, too."

"He saved her village, not a bear, you idiot." It seems Angela's knowledge on the issue runs pretty deep.

"Lookie who's talking. I knew you had the hots for him too. Whatever. She turned out to be a slut, but the story wasn't even fun. That is the most brilliant plot line ever and they blew it. Unforgivable."

"What's unforgivable?" Victoria asks, strutting out of her closet with that 'doncha wish your girlfriend was a ho like me' hip shake. She looks fantastic in a blue dress that falls just right. It has a horizontal cut under her collar, but her cleavage is kind of obscured by ruffles. It accentuates the sparkling blue of her eyes, definitely. She is so well put together that I can't help but feel kind of inadequate next to her. I'm not even wearing heels and she really does look like she is getting ready for her close up.

"Nothing of consequence, honey! You look sublime, Vic. Karen Miller is a genius when it comes to tailoring. I told you this dress would look rad. Now, call your ex KGB driver and let's make like Jude Law's hairline and disappear."

"Okay, okay. Jesus, Eric, I still need to put my makeup on and stuff."

"I just did your makeup for you!" He snaps. "Just put on some lip gloss, it will be enough." Victoria just rolls her eyes and gets her phone from her table holding it to her ear with her shoulder while putting on the lip gloss, and talks to the driver presumably, but it's hard to tell, since she's talking in Russian. "He's not from KGB, by the way, Alice." She looks at me apologetically, maybe waiting for me to freak out.

"Oh, yes he is," Eric chips in ominously.

"How would you know?" Victoria argues back at him. "Did Project Runway have a segment on ex-Russian secret agents?"

"Bitch, please, everybody knows that he is no babysitter with babysitting-recommendations tattooed all over him."

"You're such an idiot sometimes, Eric. Makes me wonder why I put up with your gay ass." She scowls.

"Because you love me. I am the ray of sparkly sunlight shining into your cold, destitute, ex-KGB patrolled, sad little life, Vic. Face it, you need me like oxygen," he beams at her and she just laughs, then runs at him and jumps on his back.

"You're right, faghole, but now you're gonna carry my skinny ass all the way to the car." Now Eric is trying to get her off of him spinning around in a weird convoluted way.

"I don't think so, honey."

"I'll muss up your hair." Eric's eyes get wide as saucers and he looks at us horrified.

"You wouldn't."

"Yes, I would." She winks at us, puts her hand into his hair and he tries to get her to let go but seems too freaked out to actually shove her hands away.

"Okay, you win. But just so you know, if you actually had a skinny ass, I would've carried you down regardless. Ouch!" It seems she just flicked him in the ear. I just look at Angela and we laugh out loud, yet again. I mean, what else can we do?

We walk down to the street and get in the car. It's a black limo, not a Hummer but a totally normal one. That sleaze, Caius, actually has a white one. Even _I _think that's tacky but I guess it helps him channel his inner gigolo. No wonder the house is decorated like Princess Barbie's interior designer was on speed while doing it. We settle in the seats, me and Angela opposite Eric and Vic. Vic seems to be checking her cell every minute, furrowing her brow and stuff. I wonder what is going on that is so upsetting.

"So, Al. Let's hear about the details, have they gotten to the alimony part yet?"

"What?" I mean, _what_?

"You know, in the prenup."

"Eric…" Angela tries to get him off my back, and gets a cigarette out of her bag in the process.

"Don't. Even. Think. About. It," Victoria says, to Ang presumably, without looking up from her texting. Ang just flips her off and puts the cigarette back with a sigh.

"Come on," prompts Eric. "These are the most interesting phases. You should really watch your mom to get some moves. I'm not saying you're gonna be a getting a shovel any time soon, but it's always good to know how to handle men." He wiggles his eyebrows at me and I'm baffled, but Eric is so funny, I can't help but giggle.

"I don't think they're gonna get married."

"Ehm, excuse me, what?" Eric asks, shocked.

"I mean, it doesn't seem to be in the cards, they never talk about it or anything… and mom doesn't really have a ring. I don't think she wants one."

"Oh god," Eric says, like he is just melting from the cuteness of what I've said, Angela smiles back at him knowingly. "She's brilliant. She is playing the 'I don't want to get married' card, wanting to be independent financially and emotionally. She is good. You'll be here with us for a while, Alice."

"She really doesn't want to get married," I insist.

"Alice." He smiles at me with a warm smile that is somehow condescending. "He made your mom move here with you all the way from Seattle. He let you move into his house. Didn't rent you your place, as you would with a liaison, you live in his apartment. He's footing the bill for your education, and he doesn't half ass it, either. He's an Italian, and a devout Catholic. Do you really think he just wants your mom for fun and games?"

"Honey, I'm sure your mom is an intelligent woman, and you need a pretty strong incentive to pack up everything and move 3000 miles away with your kid." Victoria just carries on texting while I have one of the most shocking revelations of my life. Angela looks at me and shrugs her shoulders, like she knew this all along.

"He's too old to get married," I say, using my final trump card, because, honestly, that is one of the reasons I couldn't even fathom them _ever_ getting married. God, he even asked me to call him daddy, if I wanted. What was I thinking?

"None of Caius's five ex-wives thought so. And three of them were in the last decade."

"_What_? Is he like Blue Beard of the Upper East Side with all these wives in his closet?" I think I might be freaking out.

"Maybe, but none of his wives are dead and gone, they are all alive and well, and most of them have been pretty well compensated, thank you very much," Angela says. "Don't worry; he's very nice to his wives and is probably only looking to break Larry King's record. At least that's what I've heard."

"Oh, the sanctity of marriage." Eric sighs. We arrive at another 5th avenue townhouse. Narrower than the one Victoria lives in, but still just as tall and somehow more classical and intimidating. Or maybe it's just me. We get out and Victoria has some exchange in Russian with the driver before he pulls away from the sidewalk.

"Okay, let's get you to meet queen B." Eric winks at me then holds my hand, leading me to the wrought iron gate.

* * *

**I am very insecure about this. Please let me know if you liked it.**

**Also, I'll tell you in reply when we'll have smut. Because it is 'coming' ;) As ever, ask the stalker if you have questions, she might just answer.**

**And if you're looking for something to read, go read Winter of Love by Belle Dean. Greatly unappreciated, yet sweet fic.**


	6. Update, 22st August

PLEASE READ: **If you're offended by or have triggers to teenagers drinking, having sex, taking drugs and if eating disorders make you cringe, you should go read something rated T. You've been warned. I am not a babysitter.**

**Thank you to storytellerslie, KCerena, Marvar and Belle Dean who is an awesome person with an awesome story, Winter of Love. I couldn't do this without them. Thanks to Chiclette for the help and the pimp in her supremely superior story, Venice Beach. Read it, it's in my faves and much better than anything I've ever done.**

**Thanks for the encouragement and the reviews, I'm glad you are enjoying it, I hope you will not be discouraged by this chapter. The stalker really let her bitch out this time ;) and I incorporated cullensroc's question to the stalker update because, well, I felt it was an important one. I plan on doing this in the future, good questions will make it into the story.**

* * *

**The Saint Forksian Stalker**

Update

**Beauty Queens, Slutty Twins and a Public Service Announcement**

14:10 August 22nd 2009

See, here I am, after, what, like a day?! Much has gone down, brats, some of which you might know if you follow me on twittah. Back in the city and the heat just turns right back up. It's like we never left, _non_?

But first, a public service announcement: I just want to let you know how pathetic it is to act like that that chewed up, thin, dirty little straw in your mouth is a juicy, fat precome- leaking dick. Please, please, _please_ for the love of all that is holy, do not pull this stunt in a club at three in the morning sitting in some guy's lap. It insults the juicy dick, not to mention that it embarrasses womankind; it does such humongous damage to our image that I'm not sure even a girl scoring the highest grade in calculus all year could undo it. So don't do it unless you are some kind of mathematical prodigy. Maybe not even then. Plus, those of you who _are_ doing this (I'm looking at you Lauren), seem to resort to it only after you've reached a certain level of inebriation and desperation. Yes, it makes you seem _special_, at least that's how the Rhode Island would put it. Desperation is not sexy, ladies, and it never has been. So move on to easier prey or go flirt up some sales people at A&F. DO NOT 'BLOW' STRAWS.

This has been a public service announcement.

See, I'm feeling light and charitable today. No need to thank me.

Let's just say it wasn't an epic Friday night. Little to no drama: just some mingling with C list celebs, a few nipple flashes, Emmett caught going at it with someone's girlfriend, and Rose taking a mystery man up to her apartment. In particular there were no catfights of any kind, no one discovered cheating, and no one revealed to be bi. Boooooring. No wonder, though: without Tanya, Bella and Rose occupied with a date equals zero drama and our men getting dragged away by fallen porn stars. Disgraceful. We need to work on our edge, ladies.

BTW, I'm never wearing Louboutins for a night out at the club again. I always forget that they were designed by a balding guy who likely never wore heels and doesn't give a shit about comfort level. I'll need to stick with Vivienne Westwood; that bitch knows how a nighttime predator needs to prowl.

**Sightings:**

The males were out last night, meeting up at the Soho house. Since Edward, Tyler, Emmett and Jasper were all there, let's just say they brought the sexy back to that place_ momentarily_, but I can't believe they would show up there. It's beyond out. But getting Jasper into your pool will help to raise the esteem of your establishment, as was demonstrated last night. Take note. I even have pics. Thanks **Ginnygiddy**.

Rose was seen at Kanoyama with a mystery man who was okay looking in **lollypoppa**'s opinion. They left together holding hands, and went to her apartment according to **Hobbelina**. The parents are still in Amagansett so the horny mice will definitely play.

The males headed to 1 Oak to party after Soho house. I hope you were on the list because it was not open night. Well, whatever, we're always on the list. Also, there were a few celebrities of the discounted type, like that fallen possibly porn-making beauty queen and that MTV dude who dated the actress from that vampire show. Eddie was hot and heavy with the beauty queen and Tyler had a pair of twins glued to his side for most of the evening and avoided Vic after she tried to talk to him. Poor Vicky. Now there's a bitch likely to pull the blow-straw trick any day now. Emmett and Mike were burning up the dance floor. Emmett has some moves, but honestly, Mike was convulsing like he a cockroach sprayed with Raid. Priceless. Jasper was in the VIP area, talking to one of the guys from Kings of Leon. I think it was the drummer but I don't really know them, plus it was dark and I was smashed. I would've asked him what the 'Sex on Fire' lyrics mean, though.

Incidentally, Jasper went to the bathroom the same time as Lauren and was in there for fifteen minutes. Maybe they were just talking ;) Eddie ended up going home with Mike, the beauty queen, and a few of her 'friends' *coughescortslutscough*. Tyler left with the twins and Emmett was caught making out in the coat room making a move into second base with the former girlfriend of the dude from MTV. He talked himself out of it though, according to **Vampgirl92 **because he was only helping her with her lines. It was almost too easy. But he's an LA native, so he has an unfair advantage with celebs. Have you seen his acting reel BTW? It sucks, but it's still Emmett.

The Company had breakfast at the Oak Room today instead of Sunday. Why? Could it be an emergency conference meeting on Queen B's virginity? **Prettyinprada** says she is going overboard preparing, she was seen buying scented candles and bath salts yesterday morning. This virginity thing has been hyped up way too much by now, B. Just pretend with Jasper like it hurts, you can pull the wool over his eyes, but we all know about your arrangements with Renee's sexy French ex. Some step-daddy he was. Let's get it over with, and give us something else to talk about.

Meanie recruitment day is soon upon us, girls. Don't you just love all this free entertainment?

Love out to my fellow gossips,

The Forksian Stalker

**Comments:**

**1.** 14:21 August 22nd 2009 **Giddyginny**'s comment:

_OMG you totally just mentioned me in your blog! Wow, I feel kinda famous now. BTW I totally saw Victoria make out with that MTV dude in the bathroom. She had vomit in her hair it was kinda gross. She is a total ho, even at the white party she hooked up with at least like three guys. Why is she hanging out with Bella so much? I thought Bella was supposed to be like classy or something._

16:42 August 22nd 2009 **The Forksian Stalker**'s reply:

Well, Queen B as we know it is a classy bitch with a big ol' pole shoved up her anus. She is bitchy, preppy, and hypocritical, but that is all part of her charm. Consistency is boring. So yes, I guess she likes to act like she and her friends are classy, but heaven help us the day that becomes true. There'd be nothing to write about and I like her pretentious ass. Just look at BFF Tanya w, hom we all love so much (sometimes to hate); you still remember that video of her on YouPorn? Of course you all have it on your hard drive. Well, wasn't that fun? I just want them to look classy, but slut it up, please!

**2.** 14:24 August 22nd 2009 **RhondaIsland**'s comment:

_You know that Beauty Queen isn't actually a woman, that's why she was kicked out of the competition. She is a hot tranny mess. I would've just liked to see the look on Eddie's face when that came out._

16: 45 August 22nd 2009 **The Forksian Stalker**'s reply:

Sorry gal, but I think you're wrong on this account. The girl is a hot mess alright but no tranny. Is this some weird way of coping with jealousy? Does it work?

**3.** 15:02 August 22nd 2009 **spankme_bob**'s comment:

_I know why the twins were there last night, they were looking for potential investors for their new movie. An adult movie. And they were willing to demonstrate skills too. Tyler didn't have to work hard to convince them, if you ask me._

16:48 August 22nd 2009 **The Forksian Stalker**'s reply:

Well, well, well, spankme_bob, the truth comes out. How did you know why those girls were there? Did they proposition you? Did you turn them down? Pssh, of course not, no straight guy would turn down slutty twins. Is seems they picked Tyler over you. Poor baby. There's a tough competition for hot twin porn actresses these days. Sorry for your loss.

**4.** 17:11 August 22nd 2009 **Lacylou**'s comment:

_Hey, Forkstalker! I've heard that Jasper was actually negotiating an exclusive record contract with that guy from Kings of Leon. He has sent in a demo of him playing the guitar and they loved it and so they are going to sign him soon. I heard they want to market him like a young and intelligent Justin Timberlake. Also, he'll have to say he doesn't date once the publicity machine starts working._

19:33 August 22nd 2009 **The Forksian Stalker**'s reply:

Lacy, I cannot believe you'd fall for that crap. Ivy-bound blond princes will not go off singing about soul mates wearing eyeliner and leather pants tight enough to make him hit the high notes. That dream is not his, nor should it be. He is meant to go places. His father would never approve and he is a minor. Unless he emancipated himself somehow and started doing crystal meth, this is a load of BS. Jasper might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but he is not an idiot. Don't worry brats, he will _not_ become part of the swhorebusiness (intentional typo).

5. 18:32 August 22nd 2009 **cullensroc**'s comment:Do you even go to Forks High? Why do you stalk people?

19:40 August 22nd 2009 **The Forksian Stalker**'s reply:

My lips are sealed on the first question, but aww sweetie! Here you go, reading my blog, wondering why I'm stalking people. You are all guilty by association. The Thelmas to my Louis. Wait, which one got laid? Nevermind. So, here's the thing. This isn't really stalking. In our world greed is good, sex is easy and love is a game. I'm just keeping score. I'm writing down what we're all talking about anyway. We are voyeurs by nature hon, embrace it.

* * *

**The forksalker**

Twitter Home:

(clue: In chronological order, start reading from the top, unlike in Twitter. The one in front is the one who writes the tweet and the name after the **@** is who that person replies to. So **the forksalker @lalalady **means the forkstalker replies to something lalalady tweeted)

**the forksalker** Edward and Tanya seen in carriage in front of Waldorf together. WTF?

_about 7 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**giddyginny @the forksalker** OMFG! R they back together or what?

_about 7 hours ago via Tweetie_

* * *

**vampgal92 @the forksalker** Noo way! Is she begging 2 hav him back?

_about 7 hours ago via Tweetdeck_

* * *

**hobelina @the forksalker **Please no! Eddie u should know better, she is a ho!

_about 7 hours ago via Tweetdeck_

* * *

**rosyred1 @the forksalker **I've just passed them in central park, sitting on a bench, smoking

_about 6 hours ago via Snaptu_

* * *

**rosyred1 @the forksalker **She was obviously begging him to have her back. N his hair was very sexy. Me likey :)

_about 6 hours ago via Snaptu_

* * *

**the forksalker** Angela, Vic, The Best Gay and an unidentified gal seen entering B's townhouse. Disgraceful question: Who is she?

_about 6 hours ago via seesmic _

* * *

**florentina @the forksalker **I heard that Vic totally wants to have her own minions. Or maybe she's her Russian cousin.

_about 6 hours ago via Tweetie_

* * *

**the forksalker @ Florentina** I heard about her cousin coming to visit. But wasn't he supposed to be a boy? N why would she take her to B?

_about 6 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**bubblesexy @the forksalker **No she's a girl and she came to the US because abortions are illegal in Russia and she also wants a boob job.

_about 6 hours ago via Tweetie_

* * *

**the forksalker **IDK. She is kinda flat but she doesn't look Russian. She wasn't even wearing heels. Would she have to come to US for abortion?

_about 5 hours ago via seesmic _

* * *

**the forksalker **Mike and Jess spotted at the Nolita House, sharing fries. Kinda cute, great hangover food choice

_about 4 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**vampgal92 @the forksalker **Girl w/ Vic and The Best Gay is a rep from the label that's gonna sign Jas. She wants to see his surroundings

_about 4 hours ago via Tweetdeck_

* * *

**the forksalker @vampgal92 **No one is gonna sign Jas. He's not going into music that's total BS. Just drop it already

_about 4 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**rosyred1 @the forksalker **Edward just got into a towncar on the corner of 5th and Central Park south. No Tanya in sight. YES!

_about 4 hours ago Snaptu_

* * *

**the forksalker **Edward seen getting into a towncar alone without Tanya. Seems she wasn't successful in luring his peen out *snicker*

_about 4 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**bubblesexy @the forksalker **Eddie in a towncar? What gives, I thought he preferred to walk.

_about 3 hours ago via Tweetie_

* * *

**the forksalker @hubblesexy **I guess your hangover can make you change your preferences pretty fast. Don't blame Eddie

_about 3 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**the forksalker **Rose spotted w/ mystery man from last night, seen entering Loz Feliz, laughing. Thanks for the heads up **@da_beeouch**

_about 3 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**lollygagged @the forksalker **OMFG! Just saw Tyler entering B's townhouse. Is mysterygal his GF or sthg?

_about 3 hours ago via Ubertwitter_

* * *

**the forksalker @lollygagged **GF? Sorry, Tyler doesn't do that. But he'll probably do mystery gal. Keep an eye out gals this is gonna be epic

_about 3 hours ago via seesmic _

* * *

**the forksalker **Brats keep an eye out. I bet Tyler might just get hot'n'heavy if he plays his cards right w/ mysterygal. Who the hell is she?

_about 3 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**essentiAlly @the forksalker **She's new, just moved and she lives on the same block as my BF's sister, her mom's digging on Caius. She's a total cokehead

_about 3 hours ago via UberTwitter_

* * *

**the forksalker **Seems mysterygal is a newbie about town w/ a savvy mom and an expensive skiing habit. Is that why she can't afford heels?

_about 3 hourst ago via seesmic_

* * *

**the forksalker **BTW thanks for the info **@essentiAlly**. Luv ya bitch ;D

_about 3 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**essentiAlly @the forksalker **UR welcome! I 3333 ur blog sooo much! Never change! UR our only reliable source.

_about 3 hours ago via UberTwitter_

* * *

**the forksalker **Eddie seen entering Jasper's building

_about 3 hour ago via seesmic_

* * *

**giddyginny @the forksalker **OMG why would they take the new girl to meet B? Is she like a pusher too? Maybe B's buying

_about 3 hours ago via web_

* * *

**the forksalker @giddyginny **I don't think so. She'd never do synthetics outside of a club. Some say she'd never do them at all

_about 2 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**giddyginny @the forksalker **Yeah, right. At the Peer Responsibility Assembly she had some white powder on her tie. She def does coke

_about 2 hours ago via web_

* * *

**bubblesexy @the forksalker **That's not true. Everyone knows she's so skinny because she smokes meth. I found her pipe in the bathroom once

_about 2 hours ago via Tweetie_

* * *

**lollygagged @the forksalker **Tyler left B's apartment w/ mysterygal. She was totally salivating all over him. He looked hot.

_about 2 hours ago via Tweetdeck_

* * *

**the forksalker **OMFG! Tyler and mysterygal driving off together in same car. I wonder what they're gonna do. If u see them tweet me!

_about 2 hours ago via seesmic_

* * *

**vampgal92 @the forksalker **Noooo way! Maybe she's his new P to the usher. Do u think she will be in that porn he'll make w/ the twins?

_about 1 hour ago via Tweetdeck_

* * *

**the forksalker @vampgal92 **I don't think he'll make a porno. I heard he wants to run for Senate later and that would look bad if he did

_about 1 hour ago via seesmic_

* * *

**the forksalker **OMG u won't believe this! Tyler and mysterygal spotted in hot liplock n more on a PLAYGROUND! What a kinky bitch. I approve

_about 12 minutes ago via seesmic_

* * *

**the forksalker **Thanks for the info **@pussykittycat** but u know it didn't really happen until it was photographed, right? *hint hint*

_about 11 minutes ago via seesmic_

* * *

**giddyginny @the forksalker **No way! I mean, that's like a felony, right? Indecent exposure or sthg. Whatevs. I want to know who she is

_about 10 minutes ago via Tweetie_

* * *

**bubblesexy @the forksalker **That's kinda nasty. Tyler's kinkiness knows no bounds. Okay, so it's also kinda hot

_about 8 minutes ago via Tweetie_

* * *

**the forksalker **Mysterygal and Tyler seen entering Tyler's personal pussy den, The Carlyle. Tweet away, ladies

_about 2 minutes ago via seesmic_

* * *

**giddyginny @the forksalker **That girl is definitely getting nailed tonight. I bet she just wants to be in his porn movie

_about 2 minutes ago via Tweetie_

* * *

**florentina @the forksalker **Tyler always did like Russian girls, I bet mysterygal seduced him w/ her accent

_about 2 minutes ago via UberTwitter_

* * *

**kissntella @the forksalker **Walk of shame commence in 3 2 1

_about 20 seconds ago via Tweetie_

* * *

**A/N: I would like to stress that there will be no pedophilia in this story. So, it would be splendid if you could give me a few lines on what you think. If you're confused remember that The Stalker thinks s/he knows everything, but s/he may be completely wrong, because that's just the nature of gossip. If you have questions, I'll gladly answer them. Thanks for reading!**


	7. On the inside

**Hey there. Sorry for the week long delay but I have fallen sick. Like, really sick, sore throat, running nose, high fever, massive headaches. Well, this probably doesn't concern you too much but it's true and I was busy trying to stay alive, plus the internet went down and I'm posting this from a starbucks. You get the picture. It's like the gods are against me doing this.**

**Also, my motivation with writing this is down the toilet these days. I am very grateful to those who review, please keep it up, and those who don't review, please tell me if this sucks too bad SO I CAN MOVE ON to (hopefully) bigger and better things because if it's only good in my head, maybe it should stay in there. Just please give me some feedback.**

**Okay, thanks to storytellerslie, marvar, kcerena and the angel that is Belle Dean, who's story, Winter of love, you should all be reading.**

**SM owns, _blah, blah, blah..._**

* * *

**Isabella Marie Swann**

I get out of the car and take two of the shopping bags with me, telling Laszlo to handle the rest. Jasper has called ten times, and I forwarded all of them to my voicemail. I'm not sure I can handle him at the moment. He really is a piece of work. And it's only the beginning of the year. What will happen in a month? Will he get me a collar and order me around like a dog in front of his friends? I'm sure they'd love that too. Boys. No wonder I haven't slept with him yet. If only he could be a little nicer…

As we walk in, mother's entertainment from last night is ambling down the stairs with his shirt mostly undone and a swagger that makes it seem like he owns this place. My stomach coils with disgust, even though I didn't have that much to eat. I hate that she brings this escort trash here. It's so embarrassing that instead of trying to find a guy her age who could hold a conversation or who has a _car_ to his name, at the very least, she is using these high end dildos. The most pathetic thing is that she probably believes that they'd be seeing her for free, but these sex toys come with baggage: they all seem to need money for college, have some gravely ill relative or something equally heartbreaking and bogus. At times like this, I can totally understand why Grandpa Finn chose to leave her out of the inheritance, as shitty of a situation as that puts me in. I only have to wait until twenty-five to get mine, but at times like this, it seems like an eternity.

The guy reaches the end of the steps and has the audacity to _smile_ at me. I barely glanced at him, and I don't stop to look or acknowledge him in any way; I just walk on towards the kitchen. Then he stands in front of me and offers his right hand with a wide smile. "Hi, I'm Thomas.-"

"Don't talk to me," I say without looking at him.

"How was brunch, Bella?" Matilda asks, looking up from whatever she's doing on that cutting board. She glances at my shopping bags and glances up at the ceiling in what I'm sure is a thinly disguised eye roll.

"It was fine. I told Laszlo to bring the rest in."

"Oh, dear… Jasper called. He said he needed to talk to you," she says, taking my bags from me.

"I'm sure he did," I mutter.

"Please, Bella. Cut the poor boy some slack. He's an addled adolescent with a lot of sexual frustration." I raise one eyebrow at her. How exactly does she know about Jasper's level of sexual frustration? "You spent the summer apart, sweetheart."

"Exactly. Shouldn't he be super nice now?" I ask with confusion as I don't really have anyone to discuss this problem with.

"It takes some time to ease back into things, doesn't it?"

"Hmm." I'm frustrated too – sometimes. And Jasper doesn't always help. Last time I told him I had PMS cramps he passed me his bong and told me to take a hit, because apparently weed is some kind of miraculous natural panacea. I just hope he'll never be into all this hocus-pocus natural medicine voodoo and get to the point where he'll perform impromptu autopsies on household animals to try and cure me of my ills.

"How's Tanya?" Oh god. Not her too. It's not like Tanya's my Siamese twin.

"She's… fine, I guess."

"So she won't be over anytime soon," Matilda says, passing me a mug of mint tea.

"No." I'll have the minions over soon though. Angela said she'd bring a new girl she met over the summer. She said she was nice and whatever. I wasn't sure I wanted to have her over, but I relented. Angela never asks for anything and always gets things done, so it's the least I can do. Speaking of which, I wonder if she uploaded my pictures and stuff onto Facebook already. I hate dealing with that, so I just leave it to her; I really can't be bothered, but I know it's an important tool in socializing so I can't be left out.

I'm sipping my tea while Matilda is munching on some muffins and reading US Weekly or some other sub-par publication. I get bored and go upstairs to my room, bypassing the human dildo in the foyer. I know thinking about why he's still here would only give me me headache, so I try to push it out of my mind.

This thing with Tanya is like a little bug that has taken up residence in the back of my brain and just. Won't. Go. Away. I don't really know what to do about it, how to sniff out what the situation is like without calling her. Then I think of just the thing. I don't think Tanya could be unpleasant to the owner of her favorite penis; in fact I'm sure she would tell him just about anything, so Edward it is. Jesus, do I even have his number?

Okay, I do. It would've been awkward to call Jasper now just to ask for his number. But then again, Tyler probably has it too.

Edward is just as much of a pain as usual when I call him, but he does owe me. It would've looked bad for him if it came out that Tanya was getting some on the side, not that anyone would've been surprised. So now I was forced to learn from Rosalie, of all people, that she Waldorf. According to Laura, she was with some weirdo rock band. Well, at least I know what became of that spiritual cleansing trip to Bali she was so adamant about going on. I think it was just a shitty cover story anyway. If she told people she wanted to move to a nunnery, weave baskets, and forget there was ever such a thing as bikini wax, it would've made for a more convincing story. But she's not that creative.

My phone rings again, and I'm about to send it straight to voicemail when I see it's Tyler.

"What?" I pick up.

"Well, hello, Bella." How does his voice make everything sound like he's talking about something dirty?

"What do you want, Tyler?" I'm not in the mood for his little games today; I know he takes special pleasure in aggravating me but this time he really has taken it too far.

"That's no way to greet an old friend, is it Bella? I still can't believe you're pissed about what happened in London." Asshole. I can hear the smirk in his voice. Of course I'm still pissed about it. Who does that?

"Well, I am."

"I guess I've earned being called a motherfucker." He does not sound apologetic at all; more like roguish. This isn't funny.

"If you don't give me an excellent reason for this phone call, I'm going to hang up on you in five seconds."

"We need to talk."

"Okay, talk."

"Not over the phone."

"Why not? Is the FBI listening in?" I ask annoyed.

"We need to talk, Bella, in person, today," he says like I'm a willful idiot and there is no debate to be had with him.

"Well, I don't have time for you; sorry, Tyler. Maybe some other time. Until then, go and have fun with your walking, talking skeleton girlfriends who think Anna Karenina makes the best leggings since Lindsey Lohan."

"You should be nicer, Bella," he says with a smile lurking underneath his voice. "Now that you and Tanya broke your BFF status, you'll need someone you actually like to hang out with."

"Ha, and who would that be? You?" Okay, I do like hanging out with him, but admitting that is not going to help my case now, plus I don't think I can forgive him this easily. I'm still angry at him. "Tanya will always hate you like five day old stinky manure, Tyler. Well, at least until she actually wants to make it in the porn industry, I don't think she'll talk to you."

Tanya said some unsavory… okay, I guess down right nasty, albeit true things about Tyler to Tom Madison, who's a member of the Knickerbockers' club, a club founded by those who thought the Union's entry standards were too low. Unfortunately, Tom is the son of Richard Madison, their main patron. Tyler is dying to get accepted, not that he'd ever get in under eighteen, but everyone knows he will be admitted _anyway_, since he's legacy.

Tyler got really mad when he found out and told Tanya to take it back but she wouldn't, firstly because she didn't even know the guy that well and second, she had already told him he had a small dick and was shit in bed, being honest on all accounts. So Tyler released a video of Tanya on the internet. It was pretty popular on YouPorn, apparently. I never watched it because… well, you just don't want to see your best friend giving head. But that wasn't the nasty part; he left Tanya's contact info up there – her cell and home phone number. The profile said she was looking for people to produce her movies with.

It wasn't Tyler that Tanya was blowing in the video, so nothing could be proved, but most people suspected it was him behind it. I mean, I'm 99% sure. It was a really shitty move, and obviously he won't admit to it publicly. Understandably, they haven't been on the best of terms since then. Tanya's dad threatened the site with a lawsuit, so they removed it, but copies are still floating round in cyberspace. It was absolutely scandalous, but luckily, it never took off outside of school, although the Denali household did get a few lewd calls.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Just for the record though, it could've been anyone; most guys have some kind of self made media material of Tanya."

"Okay, can you say _double standard_?And that's an exaggeration. Don't make it seem like she slept with all the guys at school; she's not a slut, Tyler." Well, I mean, maybe a little. But Tyler is delusional if he thinks he of all people – who has his own place reserved at every sex addicts anonymous meeting within the state – can throw stones from his gigantic glass house.

"I don't want to shatter your beautiful Barbie princess world with all those rainbows and unicorns and fair trade chai lattes, so let's not discuss this now. But I need to talk to you in person. I'll come over at six."

"Don't. I told you I'm busy. You'll have to wait. I doubt it's that important."

"See you at six." And the bastard hangs up. I'm _not_ going to let him in. He can go eff himself up the rear end. Oh wait, that's already taken, because it's where he keeps his head most of the time, very far up in fact. And I don't even like chai lattes.

Gah, sometimes I wonder why I hang out with him so much. Granted, we do have a little history, but thankfully it is _little _rather than big, as it was shaping up to be at the time.

I plop down on my chaise lounge, and I try to calm my nerves by looking over the catalogue of the 19th century European art auction to be held next month. Not that I'll bid on anything; I couldn't afford it. The cover has a William Bouguereau painting on it; I'm not a fan, but no matter, this will sell high even in these uncertain times. Honestly, the antiques market hasn't taken this economic hit as bad as they'd expected. Which is good, I guess. Plus art pieces this monumental are serious investments; one of the most famous Van Goghs is owned by a Japanese investment company.

This is what I want to do, this is my future, and I need to be well informed on these things and know people, so it goes without saying that I'll go. I'm crazy obsessed with art of all forms; I could spend days antique hunting if I had the time – and the money. I can't wait for the day when I'll be working: inspecting, authenticating and selling these actual, living pieces of history. That day, these petty high school shenanigans and people talking about my virginity behind my back and on shady internet blogs will be long past me.

I remember how Philippe, my step dad, used to take me to his office on weekends sometimes. The first thing that resonated with me is that I could have as much coffee cream from those little plastic cups as I wanted. When he had to consult people about stuff, I wouldn't stay alone in his office, so he took me with him. We would walk through these dingy corridors with no windows in this old building, so it was kind of scary, but I was still in awe. We went from various inventory rooms to restoration rooms; from one where a lady was putting diamonds into a tiara, to another, huge and full of furniture pieces that were just like what's in a story book. It was like an enchanted castle; a new wonder revealed behind each door. To this day, it is the closest thing to magic I have experienced. So that day, I decided that because of the magic and the free flowing coffee cream, I would do the same job as Philippe. I told him that on the way home, but he just laughed. It's twelve years later, but my goal still hasn't changed.

I know I may be going overboard sometimes, but I figure it's better to do more than less; at least that's my philosophy.

I look around realizing that someone has brought my shopping bags upstairs and that they are by the door. I didn't buy too much, just a few notable items that I wanted to get anyway. I also found a really nice orange Stella McCartney strapless corset dress that is just divine and has some weird but intriguing tailoring. It looked like it could be casual but formal too; I love those. The neckline is kind of low, but my boobs are not that big, so I can show a plunging décolletage and still look elegant. At least that's what I keep telling myself about my relatively small boobs, because according to Tanya that's why they are better. Not that she would know first-hand, of course. Sometimes I wish I could have boobs like hers the kind that can suck IQ points out of guys' heads and send them back to the stone age when they look at them for too long.

I take the dress out of the bag and decide to try it on, but when I put it in front of myself in the mirror, the color seems different than it did in the dressing room. Great. I hate it when I get conned into buying a dress and it turns out to be a different color than how it looked in the shop.

Orange is such a risky color, because there's barely half a shade between the energetic chic tangerine of Hermes' sunshine and Paris Hilton's DUI atonement uniform. I know I can take it back, but still.I don't even like shopping that much, but I can't afford a stylist or a personal shopper, as embarrassing as that is.

I walk up to the window to try and determine exactly how awful the shade of orange is on a one to ten scale. Looking at this feels like having a staring match with a baboon's backside. I'm never buying orange again, even when it isn't garnish, the color kind of sucks anyway.

Just when I'm about to have a fit because of the dress, someone knocks on my door. It must be the minions.

"Come in," I call.

It's them alright. Vic, wearing something overly coordinated, Angela something barely so and my best gay, Eric, prim and proper as ever. He's doing his usually sweet talking about how hot I look, and I know he does that to everyone but I think when it comes to me he means it. He could be daydreaming about rock hard abs and even harder peens right this second, but he knows how to charm the ladies. And he has this uncanny ability to identify clothing items by brand and season. I think it's a gift and a very useful one at that.

Then there is the new girl. I've already read the file that Angela made on her and honestly… she's nothing special. She has a skinny upper torso and she's flatter than me, but her legs are kind of strong, and her thighs a bit too thick to match her body. Her dress is outdated and does not fit her properly; she should've worn a smaller one. Her hair is dark and just laissez faire, but not in a good way, plus if someone's skin tone is uneven, like hers, they should use foundation, which she hasn't. She has _orange_ cracked varnish on her nails and it's just… well, she certainly has a long way to go if she wants to hang out with me. I'm not sure she should come out with us tonight. I don't think she understands the significance of that, yet.

But at the same time she could be an asset. Who knows? Angela is one of the most trustworthy people I know; I mean I let her handle my _Facebook_ account after all. That's like nuclear codes level of importance in a girl's life. And I didn't even get her through the traditional meanie recruiting procedure, so I guess I can trust this Alice girl too. We'll see.

She seems a bit intimidated, but definitely intrigued. I'm not sure if she is worth the effort, but I decide to give her the traditional potential minion treatment, prompting respect with just an ounce of intimidation. Not enough to instill fear or dislike, but a hint of showing off my bitchiness potential.

Then I demonstrate my generosity by trying to find a way to resolve the dire situation on top of her head. She has a nice face and really big eyes; kind of kid-like features that would look great with short hair. Plus it seems that taking care of her hair is not one of her talents. We deliberate on it for a while, but my hair wizard, Massimo, is out of town now, so not much can be done this weekend.

I also have more important things to attend to than her. Like my wardrobe for school, which is the reason for this little gathering in the first place. There is so little freedom left, I have to make the most of what we have because it's what matters the most. It's the space left to create meaning.

Handbags, first and foremost. I have been hunting for the perfect one over the summer, but I'm still undecided about it. I wish I could just go with some kind of pedestrian backpack and be done with it. But it would mean I'm unimaginative, boring, average, just-don't-give-a-hack and, worst of all, that I have the fashion sense of a weak-s-sighted, latently lesbian English teacher.

Alice seems to have good taste; she likes the Nappa Tote that I've chosen. It is classical without being boring, and has a hint of freshness with the new design. She agrees that it's the one I should take to school, but as it turns out she doesn't even have her own Prada bag. I find that hard to believe, but I'm good at reading people; she doesn't seem to be lying.

Then I decide to give the masses something to talk about and make the start of the school year just that more interesting. I give her one of my very own Prada bags from the new season's line. I didn't really like it all that much to begin with - it was a gift my father sent, the biological one, not Philippe - but she doesn't need to know that.

This gesture will definitely get tongues wagging and put her in a special position with the other potential minions; they'll be super nice to her face as she seems to be my favorite, but super bitchy behind her back, trying to tear her down. I guess it should test her future potential. I just made the race a teeny bit more interesting. I bet Victoria is already tweeting about it. Alice seems kind of guarded like she is suspicious, which is so weird coming from a girl like her, though I can't blame her for watching her back. Maybe she is smart. I wonder what she's heard about me.

I check my phone for the umpteenth time; Jasper keeps calling and Lauren wants to know if I can lend her that birdcage-shaped clutch. Ehm, how about _no_? I don't want her doing the ho-stroll with my pretty little clutch. Jasper even left a message, but I won't listen to it with all these people around.

I just want some peace because I still haven't decided what to do about the Jasper issue. I mean, it's not that I'm afraid of losing my virginity. I know it will hurt, it's not that… it's just… I know I was kind of okay with him experimenting with others a _little_ over the summer but… what if he's that much better now and has like, expectations?

I mean, I was kind of relieved when Tanya had sex with him in summer camp because I didn't want to lose it at fourteen like she did. Or more like thirteen and three quarters. And Jasper wanted to do it too, so I kind of cut her some slack… but… now it's so scary because _everyone_ is doing it. Rosalie and Lauren are already doing crotch exercises while sitting down in restaurants because that will make their orgasms and walls stronger or whatever.

So now the fact that I'm a virgin kind of makes me like special and extraordinary, but what if after sleeping with Jasper I just become k known as the bad and lousy, i inexperienced lay? I don't think he will dump me… but he wouldn't tell me if he was disappointed either.

I'd be like that actress, Sandy, in Grease who wouldn't act like a slut because of morals or what the hell ever then realized sex sells, but it was too late to catch up. I mean, I saw that Physical video she did as the top unsexiest video of all time on VH1, and it made her look like a weirdo because she was not supposed to act sexy; she was the good girl. So it looked all kinds of bad when she closed herself into a steam room with three sweaty guys… I mean… what can you do with _three_ guys? I know women are better at multitasking, but this seems like way too much work to be fun.

I will have sex with him though, eventually. I just want reassurance that I won't be a disappointment, and he can't give me that beforehand, so this is a tricky situation. It's not something you can actually practice for so you can do well, like French kissing.

God, I'd never live it down if that ever came out that I'd been so nervous about kissing with my tongue in the equation. Kate, Tanya's older sister, said she got dumped by her first boyfriend because she was a lousy kisser, so I asked Tanya to help me practice so Jasper wouldn't dump me. I know guys would probably think it was sexy, but I was really so nervous about losing Jasper it was kind of sad how I desperate I was. It was really vicious on Kate's part, to say the very least. I didn't feel sexy, I felt fraught.

And what if that thing they say, about guys only being able to fall in love if they have sex, is true? I mean, girls usually want to feel like they are in love before they have sex, so that would mean guys are forced to lie to keep up the human race. Which can't be true, right?

I mean, I don't think he lied about loving me, but will things change after…

I wish I could discuss this with Tanya. She's not big on relationships, but she knows all there is to know about sex. I wonder how Edward is faring with her. I bet she already succumbed to the lure of her favorite peen. Anyway, I have to decide on which shirt to wear with the uniform. The standard school one must have been tailored by a blind guy channeling a 13th century puritan monk who thought he was designing straightjackets. I swear to God, they want to make us look bad.

* * *

**A/N: Please leave me some luurve. I really need it to keep going.**


	8. Therapeutic somehow

**$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ADDED A NEW PROLOGUE - SO IT SHIFTED CHAPTERS ALL UP** - **NEW CHAPTER SHOULD BE UP RIGHT ABOUT NOW!$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$**

**********If you have triggers to the following: underage drinking, underage drug use, underage sex, swearing and eating disorders, please find something else to read. This is rated M for a reason. I am not a babysitter.**

PLEASE READ THIS TOO: I'm usually not too picky about how you envision my characters but my Jasper is Alex Pettyfer. Please google him, also there is a link in my profile to his picture. Jackson is okay, but I wanted this Jasper to be the ultimate pretty boy, the kind who can be the biggest asshole, an idiot, shit in bed and so clueless he thinks the moon is the sun's other side but you'd still forgive him for his pretty face. And Jackson is more on the charismatic side. Not like that at all. So please, look it up or at least imagine him a really pretty blond boy.

**********I need to thank my angel of a masterbeta, storytellerslie for her efforts, the marvelous marvar, literary genius KCerena, and the** lovely Belle Dean who pre-read this mess in the last second. She's an angel and I love her. Go read Winter of Love NOW.

* * *

**Edward Anthony Cullen

* * *

**

_"It's okay, Dorian. I told you Eddie and I have to hand in that biology project for the extra points." Tanya appears in a white dress, which showcases her tits perfectly. Maybe she doesn't hold grudges after all. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking._

_I think I'm about to find out._

"You said you'd have to go alone," says Dorian, looking at Tanya.

"No, I didn't. Don't be an idiot; I told you I'd have a friend come with me. You should pay attention, Dorian." He stares questioningly at the back of Tanya's neck for a fraction of a second, seemingly wanting to ask something, but then he drops it.

"Yeah… it's so weird, man, that you can get extra credit by doing schoolwork before school starts." He takes a cigarette from behind his ear. "Maybe if we had that I wouldn't have flunked," he sniggers, lighting up.

"I'm sure you had it baby, you just didn't know about it. I told Eddie about it last year when he was about to fail," she says in her cute voice that she uses to sweet-talk guys' nuts off. It works. And the irony is not lost on me; me asking Tanya for help with school. Maybe in a galaxy far, far away, but definitely not on planet Earth.

"Yeah, maybe. I guess I wouldn't have known. Hurry back, babe, you'll need to look hot for tonight." He winks at her, gesturing with a finger pointed like a gun. Well at least now I know why he smells like cheese. He closes the door, and we walk down the corridor towards the elevators, Tanya snaking her arm through mine, leaning on me.

"Thank fucking God. I will owe you for life for this surprise visit. You have no idea how long I've been trying to get away from this psycho. He calls what he and his degenerate band play progressive rock, but really it's just a mixture of cheap mescaline, press play on iTunes, and the occasional joint," she says with a roll of her eyes.

"Okay." That is totally not what I expected from her. _Are we kosher now?_

"Don't even ask me, but he is impossible to shake. I think he's put me off musicians for a while. And by the way, musicians are not like they used to be. I totally wanted an awesome summer, hanging out with musicians, like that Appetite for Destruction tour." Suddenly the word groupie comes to mind, but I know better than to chance saying it out loud. "But it was shit, Edward. I bet the Rolling Stones didn't have to travel on low budget, chicken noodle-smelling airlines in bumfuck nowhere Asia, or do an _a cappella_ concert the night all of their instruments got lost, and end up looking like a bunch of mandrill-baboons on acid. You know, he wouldn't bring his guitar up on board, because he needed his computer? What kind of rock star does that? It's all on computer now, literally. These are not musicians; they can't make music without a socket. Guitar is a fucking accessory to them. And they call the Pussycat Dolls a pile of shit. Well at least they don't try to hide it that they're shit. How are you, Eddie?" she asks turning toward me with a sugary sweet smile. _Is it possible that the acid she popped with them affected her memory?_

"I'm fine." We get into the elevator.

"That is good. I told mom I'd try to get by without a credit card this summer, so I gave mine back to her. I mean I still took two, but those were the emergency ones, and I barely used them. I think we would've died without them anyway, so it's good I did," she says, arranging her hair a little in the mirror. Her low cut dress does the trick; several pairs of eyes follow us as we walk through the lobby toward the entrance, as per usual with Tanya.

"Oh look, there is a carriage. I want a ride. You pay, Eddie," she says, swatting me hard on the ass, and giggling. I'm momentarily baffled, but follow her up to the carriage. We walk up to the guy and before I can open my mouth to ask "_Why_?" Tanya shouts "Mornin', Sir," with a huge smile on her face in a surprisingly convincing Texan accent. The carriage driver smiles at her immediately, his eyes behind his glasses lighting up and zeroing in on the twins._ She'll have him eating out the palm of her hand before the ride is over, _I think to myself, smirking. "My name is Dorothy Whitney and I'm trying to find me someone who will take me and my husband on a tour of that Central Park. Do you mind giving us a ride, Sir?" she says, looking straight into his eyes and coyly intertwining her hands in a way that makes her tits almost pop out of that ingenious dress. So, in about five minutes we are on our way, passing time with the most tedious activity you could find in New York. I'm texting Ted that he will probably have to wait and that I have no idea where we'll end up. I'm humoring her with yet another of her little games. She loves to do stuff like this. It's quite harmless and, at times very entertaining.

"And I swear when I saw him there standing in the sun shoveling horse muck I knew it was my mission, Sir. I had to reach out to him; it was Jesus telling me to do it. I was on his mission. So that night I went to his room to give him the other half of my virginity, I knew in my heart that it would put those funny ideas out of his head. I knew it would straighten him out." What the hell? There is a silence but the guy is sitting there, looking back for a moment, apparently paying very close attention.

"So, did it?" he asks. Tanya sighs and winks at me.

"Well, not immediately, of course. Even God takes time, you know. You went right back in, Timmy, didn't ya? They have one of those bars a few miles west of town, even though it gets burned down every other year. But then I found out I was with child, my brother Biff went, and they had a heart to heart. And it straightened him out, you see. He became a new man and asked for my hand that day. Didn't ya, Timmy?" I just nod, trying to keep myself from bursting out laughing. I text Jasper about going over to his place tonight, maybe. Bella is not answering any of his calls, so we'll probably hang out tonight again. Tanya prattles on about how she saved me, she is enjoying herself a lot. I find it hard to believe this guy actually buys that I'm some newly 'converted by the power of the redneck' homo, dressed in a getup that probably cost more than what he makes in a week. When we arrive at the Park, Tanya gets him to drop us off at the Pulitzer fountain and talks the guy out of asking for money, telling him we hardly have enough money to afford the baby's crib after paying for a guided tour of the Waldorf. As he drives away she turns to me smiling.

"See, you didn't even have to pay."

"No, indeed, I didn't."

"You're no fun," she pouts. "The old Edward would've played along. I kind of expected you to put some moves on the guy, just for fun. I should've passed you off as the retard brother. I could've told him to avoid making loud noises so you wouldn't make a mess in your pants." Tanya laughs at her own pathetic joke.

"That would've been hilarious, Tanya. I see that there is no PC training for groupies nowadays, huh?" I laugh. "What a disgrace!" She punches me in the arm, but she is fighting her smile too.

"Shut up, Cullen. After being such a little vagina last year, you don't get to put me down. Let's go for a walk. I missed the shit out of this place." She takes a deep breath and smiles with an almost serene look on her face. Then she looks toward the Plaza a little wistfully, maybe to see if Bella and company are in the Oak Room.

"It's not Sunday, you know."

"I know. But it's still the weekend."

We walk along, arm in arm, Tanya leaning into me. I guess to anyone on the outside we look like the happy couple we shouldn't have even tried to pretend to be.

"So that's all you did. Have sex with quasi-musicians in funky-smelling planes. I'm sorry, but I won't tell you I wish I could've been there."

"Yeah, I wish I hadn't been there either. But I got wiser. It was a good experience. Now I know what binibrocha means in Filipino, and how to pick a bike lock with a toothbrush. Some things you just can't buy."

"Yeah, and some things you might pay to avoid. Well, in any case, I'm glad you're back." I really am; we might not always agree, and taking Tanya undiluted in large doses is not my poison of choice, but I like her nonetheless.

"Don't think I've forgotten what went down, Eddie-boy. I'm still kind of disappointed in you," she says, pouting, and I have a hard time deciding if she is playing this up to have some 'fun' or if she's genuine.

"Tanya, you were having a rodeo on your mom's boyfriend. I wouldn't say I was crushed, but it was pretty fucking impolite, to say the least," I say, smiling a little.

"Oh, bullshit, Edward. Don't even try to pull that shit on me. You were having three massage sessions a week, sometimes four. Don't tell me you suddenly developed a hemorrhoid that needed a woman's gentle touch," she says sarcastically, snickering the last part.

"Oh, well," I sigh, reaching into my back pocket for a cigarette. "So… you caught that, I presume?" I light up.

"Of course I did. To tell the truth I was kind of…" She looks up at me, contemplating something for a moment. Then she reaches for my cigs and gets one out for herself. "…relieved or whatever. I mean, I like doing the nasty with you and your cock is magic, but you're just unable to keep up with me." Before I could look at her incredulously, she raises her hand. "I don't mean sexually. I don't want to crush your fragile little ego, but basically in every other way – you're a big old bore, Eddie boy," she says smiling, lighting her cigarette. Taking a deep drag that she blows out the smoke through her nose, she sits down on the park bench with a sigh. "Let's face it, we sucked."

"That we did," I say, scratching the back of my neck and sit down next to her. I kind of desperately hope for the part where she tells me that she wants to get back on my "magic cock" old school style, but I really don't know how to phrase that question in a way that would help my case and make me sound like I'm not desperate.

"So if you knew I was… having my business taken care of elsewhere and it relieved you, why didn't you just break it off? Did you think you'd break my heart?" I ask, smiling at her.

"No." She snorts. "And you know that wouldn't have stopped me. Some heart break would do you some good, Edward. But no, that wasn't it." I wait, thinking that she's obviously going to share the reason, but she just sits there wasting my smokes, letting it burn without touching it.

"What was it?"

"It's stupid." Of course it is; this is Tanya we're talking about. But it will also be cute or funny.

"No, it's not. And you can't find a better man to lay your stupid problems on. Hit me Tanya, and hit me hard," I say, putting my cigarette out.

"I don't even know, but it was so fucking nice. I mean I don't want any of this 'where does my dick go' lame ass thing they call dating in high school, I don't want to fight with someone because he saw me touching another guy's hand, I mean the whole thing is just a bunch of drama and all sorts of fail, and no decent sex."

"I couldn't agree more."

"But you know… next to Bella I always look like a bit of a slutty fuck up. I mean, there was this gala we went to for the opening of that gallery in March, and you know people actually listen to her, and, like, what she says. They take her seriously. And it just sucks that I never get that. So I was kind of enjoying all the things that came with dating you… it was like I was finally in a serious relationship too, as serious as they get for me anyway. You know, it was like suddenly people started treating me differently, and Bella and Jessica talking about all these things we can _discuss_ now and do together since I have a boyfriend. It's like a secret club for girls with boyfriends only. And I don't know, it felt like I was finally going somewhere, having a relationship and shit… I don't know, I felt like I was _growing up_." She just shakes her head, smiling. "But then mom had to bring Laurent home from Paris…" She takes another drag from her cigarette, maybe the second since she lit it, with a little naughty smile of hers that I love. "And you know my way of dealing with temptation is giving in to it." Tanya winks. I just lean toward her hand and take a drag of the cigarette she's holding.

"Yeah, I don't blame you."

"And I know Bella was weaving her mind voodoo on you, but it wasn't that your mojo wasn't working, you know? But you were so annoying, Eddie. You're lucky you don't want to have a girlfriend, because you sure as shit would have a hard time keeping one around." We just sit there in silence, and _that_ question is at the forefront of my mind, but of course I still don't know how to pry into this issue smoothly. No matter; Tanya can apparently read my mind just fine. "I won't go back to having sex with you, you know." I just scoff. I'm having a hard time believing Tanya will be able to resist the family jewels. Her face lights up like a gold digger's on Valentine's Day in front of Tiffany's whenever her eyes fall upon the perfection that is my "magical cock".

"I'm serious, Edward. For one, you really don't deserve it, but I wouldn't deny myself just because your ego is inflating your head out of control. But two, and most importantly, I'm done with high school boys. I mean, when you look for casual sex, you want it to be good, so why the hell would I waste my time with guys who still think every time you have sex you should come on the girl's face? By the way, I totally wish porn makers were a little more creative." The good old 'I'm done with high school boys' speech. As soon as she sees us on the field playing or me loosening my tie she will be horizontal in no time.

"Okay, Tanya, if you think that's for the best."

"Of course it is," she says, playfully swatting my thigh. "No hard feelings, you still stand out, in _many _ways, but I want to ease up on the drama. Kinda," she adds with a mischievous smirk, putting her head on my shoulder.

"Do you happen to have something in mind?" I say, looking around in the park absentmindedly.

"You will see in time, Eddie boy, don't worry."

"And what about Bella?" I say, finally getting on topic.

"What about her?"

"Aren't you guys gonna make up or something?"

"Uhm, no," she says, moving her head from my shoulder to look at me like I'm a moron and this is the most idiotic question I could ask.

"Why not?" She looks at me questioningly for a few seconds and then her eyes narrow into slits.

"Oh my God, Edward. You came here because she sent you, didn't you? How far exactly have your balls retreated?"

"Tanya, you weren't exactly that nice to her, and she asked me to do her a favor. I seem to recall doing a lot of those for you."

"Those were mutual kind of favors. Whatever. I knew all along that she was an epic bitch, but I thought she could tone it down for our friendship, as middle school as that sounds. Never mind, because apparently it wasn't worth that much. I mean, she blackmailed me by threatening to tell my mother! What kind of skank does that? Give me another cig." I give her one and even light it. She inhales and than reclines back on the bench.

"Would your mother really get that upset?" I ask, trying a new angle.

"I mean, probably not if it was just that I was sleeping with him. But if it turned out that Bella knew and came to her all outraged, she would have to act like she cared. Honestly, it would put her in an uncomfortable position. She would've just felt humiliated because Bella had found out. Probably. But I don't know for sure. You never know which are the untouchables of her little underwear collection." Of models that is.

"You know, Bella forgave you for sleeping with her boyfriend. I don't want to seem like the BFF guru, but shouldn't you try to be the bigger person this time?" I ask, nudging her with my shoulder.

"Edward, that was ages ago. I wanted to lose it before high school and I wanted to do it with someone I trusted and who would not get attached, but still be nice. I know it was shitty, but we got drunk and we really couldn't help it. He wanted to lose it too, but Bella flat out refused him. At least I didn't try to steal him, it was just sex, it made sense. Plus this is what happens when you go to a different tennis camp than your boyfriend. Bella had it coming, and she was expecting it, you know."

"Okay."

"Just stop it, don't be so judgmental," she huffs, smoking her cigarette. "It was so long ago and I swear that was the only time. Plus I never slept with the one guy who is truly off limits. And trust me the temptation was there."

"What?" I ask, bemused. "You just admitted to sleeping with Jasper. You haven't resisted shit, Tanya," I laugh.

"It's not Jasper, sullen."

"Who is it?" I ask, genuinely curious. I mean, apart from your boyfriend who could possibly be off limits?

"Philippe," she says, blowing out smoke through her mouth. I'm momentarily distracted by the way her lips curve into an enticingly perfect pout.

"Philippe?" I ask, snapping out of it.

"Her step dad. Well, not officially, but pretty close. I mean, she never told me in so many words to keep my hands off him, but it has been… implied. Pretty strongly."

Rumor has it that Renee's ex keeps supporting her and Bella to this day, years after they've broken up, because instead of Renee he's moved on to Bella. Some say he's been much 'nicer' to Bella than expected from a step-daddy for years, which would be pretty fucking disturbing if it turned out to be true. "So what they say…" I trail off.

"Of course it's not true," she snaps, getting protective of Bella in no time. "It's bullshit, Edward, I don't even know who was sick enough to come up with that rumor. I bet it was that designer whore bag Rosalie. Or Lauren. I mean, just to imply… whatever. But it's totally untrue. Don't believe that shit. You should take the square root of everything Lauren says and then you'll get the amount of truth that's in it. I think if she said something that was totally true, at this point she would likely have an aneurism, her brain just couldn't handle it."

"So… if you were to meet with Bella…" She just sighs, rolling her eyes at me.

"You can go tell her to take that stick out of her ass, stop her south bitch diet and eat a dick," she says impassively. "I think it's high time she released some sexual tension. The world would be a better place if only she did." I can only nod. I really don't know what it must feel like to have everyone around you fuck their brains out on a regular basis when you aren't getting any. I sure as shit couldn't handle it. I guess it explains why she's the way she is.

"So what did you do in the summer, Eddie?" Tanya puts her head back on my shoulder. "Make it interesting. I wanna hear about someone who didn't completely fuck up the holidays."

"I was… productive," I reminisce, smirking a little.

"Come on. Now that you know all about my embarrassing crappy ass summer, you need to share all your sexual deviations. Tell me about all the PAs you got fired. It's called fair trade."

"I guess it's the Manhattan version. You know, I think 'sexual deviations' is a bit harsh." I smile a little. "I had no time to quality check Carlisle's PAs, but it was a productive summer none the less. Now that I look back on it, this will probably go down in history as the summer of the ménage à trois," I say, leaning back and lighting up another cig.

"And?"

"I realized I prefer them with girls." We just sit there, me smoking away, and I can practically feel Tanya vibrating with curiosity.

"You realize you cannot just drop a bomb like this and not say more."

"What exactly do you want to know?" I smile to myself.

"Preferably everything. Knowing you, that's not likely, but you have to tell me who you crossed swords with at least. It was Jasper, wasn't it? I so knew you were gonna do some gay ass shit with Jasper! He's been waiting for you, Edward, and you know it. You just fulfilled his biggest dream. Too bad there had to be a stripper there to be his beard." I just laugh, a bit uncomfortably. Tanya has this weird joke accusing Jasper of being 'my gay lover' in waiting. I don't know where she got the idea from, but sometimes it's fucking bizarre.

"What makes you think we would have to resort to a stripper?"

"So it _was_ him! I told you, I knew!" It was funny, but I start to get annoyed.

"I never said it was him, but we are good looking enough to get someone who doesn't accommodate dicks for tips."

"Whatever. You got it on with Jasper," she sings.

"Just stop, Tanya." I'm getting irritated with her already.

"Edward and Jasper sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N-G!" She doubles over laughing while I just sit there, really fucking agitated. "Sorry. But you are so funny when you get all riled up, Eddie! So serious, omigod you are so cute right now!" she says reaching to pinch my cheek or rumple my hair or something equally annoying. I just swat her hand away. "Okay, I'm okay." She straightens up, looking serious for a moment, then she bursts out laughing again. "I just need a moment." I just sit there while Tanya giggles to herself like a stoned hyena. Whenever it seems like she is about to stop, she just looks at me and it all starts again. People pass us by and stare. Oh, dear Jesus, how the hell did I ever think I could actually have a relationship with her of all people?

"Your angry face is so funny, Edward. I'm sorry. You look so cute right now. Okay, okay. So, do you want to get a pretzel or something? I'm starved." Actually, I am too. We go to a pretzel stand where Tanya runs into some Eurotrash chick she knows and they start talking. I feel like this is the perfect time to quietly and smoothly glide away, so I say goodbye to her and text Ted to pick me up at the corner of the park.

"So how was it, junior? Did you work your magic on Miss Denali?"

"How do you know it was Miss Denali I met?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Oh, I've got my sources," he says ominously.

"Oh, God." I palm my face. "Please don't tell me you read that blog too."

"I surely have no idea what you're talking about, junior." He winks at me, spinning his Blackberry in his hand like a motherfucking pro.

"Am I busted? What do they say?"

"That your hair looks good. And that she seemed desperate to have you back."

"Good to know," I mumble, nervously fiddling with my hair. It's time to call Bella. I press call.

"Well, well, well, Cullen. What business do _you_ have with Bella?" Who the fuck is this? "Tyler?"

"That would be me."

"And why the fuck would you answer Bella's phone?"

"Okay, whatever, man," he says. "You'll have to discuss it with her."

"I asked him for advice on Jasper." I hear Bella saying distantly, then there is some commotion. "Sorry about that, Edward, just a minor inconvenience. I don't even know why Matilda let him in. He must have looked hungry," Bella grumbles, once she's gotten her phone back. "So, did you talk to _Jasper_?" The way she emphasizes that name makes it obvious that she sure as shit isn't talking about him.

"Yes, I talked to _her_," I sigh. "Honestly, Bella, I think you'll have to be the bigger person this time. Tanya won't be crawling to you to apologize any time soon. She didn't believe your conduct was fair to say the least. But she wishes you the best."

"What a whore. I mean asshole. Jasper is such an asshole. Well, thank you in any case, Edward. I know what a special bond you two share."

"Yeah," I say, sitting back. Not anymore, apparently, but give it time…

"Did he say anything else?"

"That she had fun over the summer. And that she doesn't want any more high school drama." I mean, I might as well get it out there. I don't think either of them is capable of rising above petty high school shenanigans, but let them try.

"Whatever. Edward, you should know that _Jasper_'s behavior was unacceptable. I mean, _you were there_."

"I'm over it, Bella. And so is she."

"Hmph. Are you planning on going over to Jasper's place today?"

"Okay, now are we still talking about Tanya? I just met her."

"Of course we're talking about Jasper." Now we are talking about him. Why the hell do we have to speak in riddles? Is Tyler still there?

"Is Tyler still there?"

"Yes, but he'll be gone now any minute, won't you? Just leave, we'll talk later." I hear them having a muted conversation. I'm getting really agitated waiting in line for Bella just to convey Tanya's message to her which basically translates to "fuck off".

"Okay, I'm here. Sorry; a few of the girls were here to discuss… whatever. So Tanya got you to make up with her… I knew you would try to worm your way back in her unmentionables but that was fast, even for you," she says impassively.

"Don't worry. We're friendly, but that's about it."

"Did you apologize?" Now that I think about it, I really didn't.

"Well… we talked it out."

"You see? This is crazy! I'm supposed to be her best friend, and she won't even call me, but she just lets you, the fuck buddy, off the hook without so much as an apology. That is just… great." I can hear her voice getting a bit quiet at the end. I think this thing is a lot harder on her than she lets on. I really don't want to get tangled up in their schemes; this is way more than I ever signed up for. "So…" she says, sighing, still not quite back in her bitchy demeanor."Are you going over to Jasper's place?"

"Why?"

"Because… I'm mad at him, but I want him to come over tonight."

"He told me he's been texting you the whole day, Bella."

"Well, he should be. He got promoted to douche marshal last night. He should try harder. He never even came over, or bought the make-up gift I already reserved. He stood in line for two hours for that crappy Halo game and I should be flattered because I get five phone calls? Please, if he really regretted what he did he would be camping out in front of my door, blasting _Waterloo Sunset_ from some wacky stereo. At this point, even that sad stripper anthem _Every Rose Has it's Thorn_ would do."

"It is important that you have realistic expectations, Bella. I'm glad to see you are doing so well in this department. I'm going over to his. I don't care what you do."

"You could tell him to invest a bit more effort. And make a call to Harry Winston's just in case. Bye, Edward," she says, not even waiting for me to finish conveying Tanya's "fuck off" message. Talk about high maintenance. Jasper would probably get some raised eyebrows for blasting a stereo on the street in front of her house. I might get him to do it dressed up like a perv with a trench coat, just so I could mock the shit out of him for it for the rest of his natural life.

"Let's go to Jasper's."

"All right, junior."

"I hope you don't rat me out on that blog."

"No, of course not. But it is the most fascinating thing. I can see its appeal, really. Although I must say, the sixties wouldn't have been the same if we were running around with these sorts of gadgets."

"I bet. We would have proof, and people who have been to Woodstock and gotten from having sex in the mud would finally be forced to admit that it sucked."

"Don't mock Woodstock." He means business with that one, but lowering yourself to a pig for a few days rolling around in dirt while watching musicians OD is not my idea of love and freedom. Well, times change I guess.

"You would've enjoyed it, junior. You need to get over yourself."

"Not gonna happen."

"We'll see." We are driving to Jasper's place, and I really don't feel like hearing him whine about Bella. But to tell the truth, I'm hungry as fuck and Kitty is due today, and I kinda wanna see her. Ted pulls over to the curb.

"Well, junior, here we are. What time do you want me to come? I'll have to collect Senior around nine, so I'm good any time after that."

"Okay. I'll just call you," I say, getting out and walking into the apartment complex. I wave to Hermann and wait for the elevator. A really pretty redhead is also waiting for it in a pink power suit. Oh, the irony. She is looking me up and down, and she likes what she sees. When I catch her looking she just winks, and that's when the elevator arrives. We get in, and I start to feel the tension between us, this implicit compulsion to say or do something. She is shifting her weight from one leg to the next, and waits for me to push the button. Then she leans over to the press the button herself, brushing against me in the process deliberately. This is the part I love the most; the possibilities are endless, and the promise is the most prevalent at this point. In my mind she could be the sweetest girl with the perfect mouth, fantastic body and skills that take my mind to another dimension. This is the scenario my greedy mind comes up with every time, and the experience is the purest now, before things actually happen, because I have this way of picturing my future lays as Platonic ideals with whom I share very non-Platonic experiences. I can see us being perfect in bed, maybe outside of it. Too bad everything goes downhill from here; her tits might not be real, she could be a cadaverous lay or one of those Amish ones who won't blow, or just one of those who grate on my nerves with every word they utter. But I'm too curious to resist. The lure of perfection, even though I know it to be false and a mere illusion – it is impossible to resist. That is my downfall. I want to know. I should just leave now and let us have this perfect, untainted little could-have-been. This is the only perfection you get in life; the promise of perfection. Everything else will suck. But I still smile at her.

When Thelma opens the door, I enter the apartment with a name card in my pocket. I really like Thelma; she probably deserves a medal for keeping everyone in the house in line. She is the only one who can control Peter, Jasper's ADHD brother, who runs around 24/7 like roadrunner on speed. No wonder their parents didn't have any more kids.

"Hey, Thelma, isn't it your day off?"

"Yes, Edward, but I promised to stay a little, there is no nanny to take care of Peter. He is a nightmare, and he got three packets of Slim Jim's yesterday somehow, so there is no dealing with him today."

"Holy shit."

"I tried to make him watch TV, but he kept on jumping from couch to couch. I don't know what to do anymore, Edward. I might just strap him into a chair and put on some whale music."

"Poor Peter. I'm sure he doesn't deserve a treatment that harsh." Plus it would finally provide some grounds to his typical emo claims of a horrible life lived in chains.

"Just go to Jasper. That lady who is selling cookies for her church will come any minute now. I think I'll take Peter to the park. I just hope his skateboarding will give me some time to read in peace."

"Take care, Thelma." I smile to myself. Thelma is the coolest. I just love to watch her rip Margaret, Jasper's mom, a new one. It happens on occasion, and sometimes I'm around to witness the cathartic moment of class justice. They need her too much, and she knows it.

I walk into the living room where Peter and Jasper are wrestling on the ground. Jasper's still in his flannel pajama pants and nothing else.

"Give it back, asshole."

"Stop it, Jasper. Just go back to your room, assclown," Peter yells, trying to get out of the almost-headlock he is in. But then he does some quick twisting and Jasper is beneath him. Jesus, he's getting beat up by his thirteen-year-old brother.

"I was watching that shit first, you emo douche," Jasper shouts into the carpet as Peter pushes his face into it. I just wish I had some popcorn to sit back with. And I silently thank God I don't have a brother.

"I don't care. Give me the remote, dickhead."

"No chance, asshat. Go back to your room and straighten your pubes out with that emo flat iron you bought. Maybe Charlotte will bite. Unff." Now Pete is punching him in the ribs.

"Shut the fuck up, Jasper! I won't take advice from you; you can't even make your own girlfriend bite." I have to hiss at this a little. That's one for Pete. It burns, burns, burns. This gives Jasper a new bout of energy and suddenly he has Peter down on the ground with his hands in a lock. That little comment got to him, it seems.

"I make girls bite, don't worry, little brother. Now go play with your eye liners, sissy."

"Whatever," Peter grumbles, getting up and wa a alking away slowly. "We both know I'll be getting Char laid long before you can get any from Bella." He looks back smirking then bursts out running to his room. Jasper is on his heel in a flash. I just go to sit down next to the ever so impassive Mufasa the Dalmatian, poor fucker. Peter was ODing on The Lion king when they got him. Not my first choice for a Dalmatian name, but you have to appreciate the utter weirdness of it. I spot Jasper's iPhone on the table. I snatch it and get out a magazine for cover.

I've discovered a whole new side to our little queen bee this summer and how charming she can be in video format, I must say it is delightful. I start looking through the real showcase of Bella's talent that I've been secretly screening all summer. You have to appreciate shit like that. Now I kind of understand how she keeps Jasper around, feeding him these especially delicious little scraps. It's just cruel – I think to myself – it is so far away, but I bet in moments like this it seems so close.

The set up is the same, Bella in some Victorian-looking bedroom dressed in lingerie. She is wearing a white, innocent yet a bit skimpy looking thing, not the usual stuff. No thigh-highs or hosiery with this one, and I think somewhere a bunny just died. Once she wore black lace gloves while she was doing this shit. And she didn't remove them. I almost had an aneurism on the east wing veranda pretending to read the Times. In any case, someone should tell her that legs like hers and an ass like that have to be accentuated. She has, hands down, the best legs in the whole school. Maybe the best legs ever. She doesn't speak much, just cooing about how she misses Jasper. Then she turns on the music (Leopard Skin Pill Box Hat – excellent choice), and starts swaying gently, looking so shy but knowing exactly what she's doing.

That's just the thing about her, this dual impression: her being this innocent little virginal girl, but you have to tip your hat to the bitch that keeps everyone standing in line without ever so much as giving a blow job. She is anything but innocent, but when she looks at you like this, you just have to believe her. Her moves are tentative but smooth. None of the girls in class make videos that are this enjoyable; they all seem like tacky low-budget soft porn but she just… I don't know how, but she makes it charming and sweet. Go figure.

S

he's about to take her bra off when Jasper comes back in and I put the phone back on the table when he's not looking. Later I might try and see how it ends.

"Hey man," I say, pretending to read the magazine. It's Vogue. I try to find an article to read but it's impossible; it's all flat-chested, skeletal, androgynous girls in fucked up clothes. Is this really how they'll dress for the fall?

"Hey," Jasper says, plopping back down onto the couch next to me and swatting Mufasa away. "I hope he takes the emo thing to another level and starts playing with razors. What a cocky piece of shit little douchebag."

"Yeah." I think Pete would understand if only he saw the videos, but that is obviously a comment I'll have to keep to myself.

"I need to get her to drop this shit somehow," Jasper mumbles, obviously referring to Bella. He's looking at the TV with a passive stare, flipping channels.

"She mentioned something about Harry Winston's, dude."

"Did you talk to her?" Jasper asks, suddenly alert. Fuck. I'm not exactly friendly with Bella, and I don't want to delve into the whole Tanya thing right now.

"No, I talked to Tanya. She said that."

"Oh. Okay. Fuck," he sighs, tilting his head back. "I better get on it." He gets his phone out and starts texting or doing fuck knows what. The thing that pisses me off is that Jasper is a red-blooded male in the summer – I know that to be true. We are like fucking mustangs, wild and free, but as soon as summer's over he turns into such a pussy with Bella. Maybe that's love, I don't know, but I can't imagine acting like a flaccid dick will get you very far. He should be more demanding or just quit her. This has been dragging on for ages. Literally. It's just painful to watch.

"So when is Kitty coming?"

"In an hour or so."

"Wanna play some Xbox?"

"Yeah, let's play box." We play some Bioshock 2, but Jasper is really down. I think it's the Bella thing bothering him. This just drives my point home; relationships equal no sex and a lot of drama. Having Bella as a girlfriend means the drama is of epic proportions. Whatever, I know better than to argue about this shit. God, I love this game. I'm no geek, but the brilliance of Bioshock is undeniable.

"Ow, fuck!"

"Dammit!"

"Yep, this shit has frozen on us yet again," I say, throwing the console somewhere.

"Piece of shit," Jasper says. "It only does this in multiplayer." –

Before we can delve deeper into the issue of the crappy programming and shit, the doorbell rings. Kitty is here. Jasper goes to open the door and I follow. When he opens it, the old lady is standing there with Hermann, the doorman, carrying all of her cookie boxes. She looks prim and proper, but in a regular sweet granny way.

"Oh my, thank you so much, Hermann. Heaven knows what I would do without you," she says, giggling and putting her moves on poor ol' Hermann. He passes the boxes off to Jasper and tips his hat to Kitty.

"It's been a pleasure as always, Mrs. Lieberman."

"Oh dear, you make me sound so old." She waves and smiles jovially. "Please call me Kitty. It's absurd that these boys will oblige me, and not address me like I'm their middle-aged math teacher, yet you still insist on calling me Mrs. Lieberman, like I'm any regular stranger." I just look at Jasper and he smirks back at me. They do this little mating dance every time. No wonder Hermann always takes the Saturday shift.

"Have a good day, _Kitty_."

"Finally! Thank you so much, Hermann. I'd be delighted to give you the special mint chocolate ones gratis if you decide to buy any more." I swear to God she winks at him and smiles coyly.

"I'll think about it. After all it is for your church, and I love worthwhile causes and helping out damsels in distress. You'll just have to get back at me before you go. Boys, make sure you don't buy all the choc and mint ones. Good day, Kitty."

"Thank you. I'll see you around, Hermann." Jasper closes the door and we are on Kitty's heels as she marches into the kitchen. She puts her purse on the counter and turns towards us. "Gentlemen, this is your lucky day. I have some fantastic news. I managed to get my hands on some White Lady seeds and she is in good health, blossoming all over the place," she says, getting her glasses out and putting them on. "Let's see." She reaches into her purse, getting out a make-up bag. "It really is such a grateful little plant. Nothing like that Holland Hope. It turns out it was an outdoor plant. I've tried putting it out into my windowsill but that didn't help either. I told my neighbor it was Spanish basil." she laughs, getting a ziploc bag out of her make-up.

"I couldn't even get it to germinate," Jasper mumbles. Oh yes, he tried growing it himself, with little success I might add. I think he wanted it for some pot brownie ice-cream cake to begin with, not to smoke up or anything. He won't smoke a cigarette, but he will gladly exchange a few thousand brains cells for this.

"You want me to bring you a clone of her?" she says, holding the bag up. "She is so well behaved. Just let me know if you want some, sweetie." She fumbles with opening the ziploc. "So many layers, but I hate when the smell of it gets into my purse. It doesn't smell nice in clothes," she says with smile. "Come smell it, dear." Jasper goes up to inspect it, ever the expert of course.

"Wow, I think I got high just from the scent. This is excellent, Kitty! I heard it was out of this world, but damn." She looks at him disapprovingly. "I mean dang, it's good." I go up next to the counter to sniff it too. Yep, that is definitely some potent shit.

"Kitty, you're the best," I say, smiling my lethal smile at her.

"Don't waste your charm on me, Edward," she says with mock annoyance. "I know that you say that to everyone who brings you mind altering substances, you despicable juvenile delinquent."

"I do. But none of them are quite as lovely as you are, Kitty. You are special, the only one for me," I say, smirking. "I just hope one day you'll see it too." She laughs heartily and pats me on the face.

"No matter how thick you lay it on, no free goodies for my favorite customer. The crisis has hit me hard." Bullshit. If anything it made her business flourish. But I really don't mind giving Kitty money. She is doing God's work after all.

"Hey, I thought I was your favorite customer." Jasper pouts, playing along.

"You have a girlfriend, young man. I do not covet what oughtn't to be mine. I guess I'll just have to settle for your friend here. How is your lovely little lady, by the way?"

Jasper just groans. Bella made an impression on Kitty when she was accidentally still here last time Kitty came. She pulled out all stops, being all nice and charming with Kitty, the charitable old lady selling cookies. And she was impressed Jasper regularly bought stuff from her that benefited the church. The situation really profits everyone involved.

"She won't talk to me," he says, leaning back on the counter and taking an apple from the bowl in the middle of the island. "At all."

"Why is that?" she asks, getting out her little measuring device and adjusting her glasses. When Jasper doesn't answer, she just looks up at him giving him a stern look. She looks like _Murder she wrote_ coming to life in that moment.

"Well," Jasper says, scratching his neck as he takes a bite of the apple. "I kind of blew her off yesterday."

"She seemed like such a nice girl. Someone who could keep you in line and god knows I love you boys, but you need someone who can keep you on your toes. Why would you go and do that, Jasper, dear?" Jasper looks _sheepish_.

"I see," Kitty says, looking away from him, finishing the measuring. "Exactly 15 grams as agreed." She hands him the bag. "It's really excellent quality, still a bit sticky. Be careful with it boys, don't smoke it all at once and don't drive afterwards."

"Thank you, Kitty," Jasper says, taking the bag from her.

"And be nice to Bella. She's a catch Jasper, don't be the flake who let's the good one get away."

"What should I do?"

"You can do what you juvenile delinquents always do! Buy her some flowers or something nice, but the most important thing is to let her know you feel sorry. And that you won't do it again." Jasper just grumbles and hands Kitty the money. She inspects it for a sec then puts it away in her slightly worn Chanel handbag.

"Now, gentlemen, onto the cookies." She has a huge smile on her face and goes on to list the cookies available today without missing a beat. I usually hate dealers. Sometimes just thought of pretending to have conversations and shit with them, acting like I actually care about what they have to say while I buy, can almost put me off buying; but I genuinely love Kitty. Hands down the best dealer ever. She only deals herbs, though, nothing else, but I still can't figure out how this little lady manages to grow prime quality stuff on her own as a hobby. I know she loves plants, but still. Whatever. I'm pretty sure we are not her only customers who wonder.

"…The ones with the macadamia nuts and white chocolate are super fresh. They have the most amazing texture, although I wasn't the one who made them. You know Shelly has some secret ingredient, but she won't tell anyone about it, the greedy spinster that she is. She's like that, edged out all her kids from the inheritance, too." She just shakes her head. "I made the chocolate chip ones. They are very good," Kitty says proudly.

"I'll just take one of the organic ones." Of course Jasper the health freak resurfaces.

"Edward?" I just sigh. I'm pretty indecisive about this sort of stuff.

"I'll have the macadamia ones and the plain chocolate chip ones."

"You should take some oatmeal ones as well. You need some fiber, you're still growing."

"I'll take one of those, too."

"Excellent!" Kitty beams. "Pleasure doing business with you young men," she says.

After we get the cookies, she starts packing her stuff up, putting away the cookie money and removing her glasses, putting them back in their case. "Jasper, you be nice to Bella." She looks at him strictly. "It would be a crying shame if you became a womanizer at such a young age. It is detrimental to a boy's character. You should learn to fight for good things." She gets her bags and the remaining cookie boxes. "Now boys, give me some sugar." We both lean in and peck her on the cheek, as per usual procedure. "See, better already!"

"So what now, Kitty? You go sweeten the days of the other residents?"

"Well of course. I bring the cookies."

"Sure. The cookies."

"Are you asking me for information on my clients? Edward, I'm appalled. If I ever sweeten your day it's between you and me." I just smile as we walk her out.

"Bye, Kitty." Jasper turns to me as he closes the door.

"Man, she was probably the thing I missed the most during summer," Jasper says. "You wanna smoke up?"

"No, not right now. I'm fucking starved." Jasper just rolls his eyes.

"Come on man. I wasn't planning on cooking today. I don't have shit. I ordered everything for tomorrow, though."

"What are you gonna cook tomorrow?"

"I was planning on making dinner for Bella. Just the two of us. It'll be romantic. I even ordered white truffles and shit." I don't want to say anything, but fuck it.

"Jasper, I think that's going a bit overboard to order food items that are occasionally auctioned for someone who doesn't eat." We walk into the kitchen and Jasper starts plowing through the fridge.

"Only the big ones get auctioned, and she eats and loves my cooking, asswipe. Well, fuck, the only thing we have is shiitake mushrooms. What the hell? Wait, I'll see what other shit we have…" Jasper is rummaging through the kitchen slowly.

"I got it. We should have a few coconuts too, so I can make Thai coconut soup. I hope Thelma bought them where I told her to." Jasper is all about organic shit these days. He developed this shtick in the last year, and he recently declared saturated fats and refined sugar are the worst kind of poison. With a fat joint in his hands, nonetheless. I would tell him to get a girlfriend or a life, but… well, he already has those. He always liked to cook, but it has been out of control ever since. I'm not complaining; I chose my hetero life-partner well. Jasper sure as shit knows how to fix something delicious up, which is a godsend when you wake up with a hangover after you passed out in the tub wearing latex gloves with a black eye next to _Lauren_ of all people. I guess that was my mind's way of interpreting having to use a rubber at that level of inebriation. But I digress.

Thelma and Pete arrive soon after, Pete leaving for his date soon after. With Jas we talk about how much it will suck to go back to school again and how fucking horrible it will be to wear uniform each day. But I know that when we are middle aged and visits to the urologist are a frequent occurrence, we'll be happy for the memories of young girls in uniforms. So I guess we will have to make the most of it while we still can.

In the meantime Margaret, Jasper's mom, arrives, waltzing in with a few shopping bags in her hand, setting them down on the floor. It must be around eight by now, it's fucking dark outside. I'm kinda wondering how the day went by so fast.

"Hey, muffin," she says, pecking Jasper. "Hello Edward!" Marge coos impishly. "What are you doing here corrupting my sweet innocent child?" She smirks.

"There is little room for corruption, but I do try very hard, Marge."

"That I know. Whatcha cookin', muffin?"

"Coconut soup," Jasper says pouting. He acts like a little boy whenever Marge is around, and she eats that shit up, treating him like he's five years old. It makes you want to gag and smile at the same time.

"I'll have some too. And Jasper, please be nicer to Pete. He just called me and said that you have abusive tendencies that are compromising his wellbeing." She just rolls her eyes. "He'll be a lawyer for sure; I can already see it happening. But please be nicer to him."

"Mom, he's an asshole."

"Jasper, please," she says, looking up at the ceiling and smoothing her dress down in her reflection on the fridge. She is wearing her blond hair up and has her 'murder mystery in the country club' clothes on. She is the mom who puts the F in MILF; I just wish she wasn't Jasper's mom. "You are the eldest. You should know better."

"Whatever. But you should look out for him, mom." He looks innocently at Marge, the puppy dog look that gets her to go all soft and maternal in seconds. "He is getting in deep with this emo crowd, and you know they are into self-mutilation and stuff. I think you should definitely have a talk with him. After you've googled emo." Now he's just being evil.

"Don't worry, Jasper. I know about that emo stuff. Dr. Rudenstein gave me a pamphlet on it. I have the situation under control. If he doesn't stop soon we might send him back to therapy. But at least the mystery of my missing eyeliners was solved." She gets a spoon out and samples the soup. "Mmm. Muffin, this is delicious. When will it be ready?"

I wander off into the living room and finish the wicked video. This is truly amazing. I wonder where she learned all that stuff. Maybe she's a natural.

"Edward!" Marge is calling me so walk back to the kitchen.

"What is it, Marge?" I ask, strolling back to the kitchen. Marge is already barefoot next to Jasper. She's swirling a glass of white wine thoughtfully in her hand as she looks at me.

"Boys, shouldn't you be in Bridgehampton tomorrow morning? I don't want to hear from the coach that you are slacking off, Jasper. Your father bought you that horse with money that could've bought me a convertible. Please try and not slack off, muffin." Yeah, she got the convertible anyway, but I think Jas knows now is not the time to bring it up.

"I know, Mom. We might head out early in the morning. Right, Edward?"

"Yeah, we might." I know Jasper loathes polo. I like it okay, but it's a bit too ostentatious for my tastes. Aro told me that I'll be grateful later if I learn to play it now, so I play it anyway.

"Good. Play nice boys, I'm going to get ready, we're going out tonight with the Stanleys. Violet has some new charity she's running and she is pimping it out to everyone with a checking account." She walks out of the kitchen with her soup on a tray. "Be good, muffin. Edward." Jasper gives me the soup and I start shoveling it into my mouth. I am practically dying of hunger at this point, so I help myself and make a sandwich as well.

"Man, I don't want to go back tomorrow. Fuck it, I'm done with this shit," he says, rubbing his eyes.

"We have to go," I say, because we really do.

"I know, but I won't have time to prepare the dinner for Bella." I just look at him and will the capillaries in my brain not to burst.

"Jasper, trust me, Bella would be much more pissed if you were kicked off the team than if you never cooked her a dinner she didn't have to pretend to eat."

"Whatever, man."

"I mean it, Jasper. You have to come tomorrow, or I swear I'll tell them that you didn't come because you're here in your gay ass apron with curlers in your hair getting pretty and cooking dinner for your girlfriend."

"Fuck you." He laughs, throwing his crumpled napkin at me. I stay a while longer and we relocate to Jasper's room to continue playing PS3. He also shows me some hentai cartoons he got. I am rarely one to say this, but that is some sick ass shit. I bet Tyler has a shelf full of these. We smoke up with that White Lady stuff and that is some potent shit. The first hit makes me cough like a mother. I call Ted at around midnight to come and get me. I'm home by half past. Even through there is a lazy fog over my mind, it stings a bit that Carlisle never even called or made any contact. I know he needed to sort out some shit with the flu shots in Europe, but he could've found two minutes to call that he was home. Whatever.

I set my alarm for the next day; I have to be at the stables by 9. I text Ted to be ready. If he doesn't have time he'll just arrange for someone. I dress down to my boxers and fall back into my bed. My last thought is that no matter the thread count, I hate fresh bed linen. I like it better when it's slept in and soft.

* * *

**A/N: So, I figure you guys are not so much into Eddie, since the least reviewed chapter was his. This makes me a bit sad, because I like him, and not just a little. Please reassure me that I'm not the only one.**

**Also, someone asked if I'm up for FGB auction. After ****getting really flattered**** and laughing my ass off at the same time, I thought I should clarify that I'm indier than indie and no, I'm not participating, the shame of not getting bid on would be too much to bear. Sorry. If you have suggestions on what you'd like to see, you can tell me in a review or PM me and if I like the idea then MAYBE. If I don't than I won't write it but hey, at least it's free! **


	9. Take me out

**Hey people! Sorry for being this late with this chapter, but ya know how it is when real life gets in the way, I won't even bother with excuses because I think you're all aware of why we sometimes just don't have time for things like fanfiction. I understand if you've moved on from this ****story because of the wait, but I promise if ****you stay I'll make it worth your while... this chapter has a very racy lemon to compensate for your wait. Hopefully it will be enough to appease you :)**

**And as you can see from the new prologue I added, I do know where this is going. I need to thank storytellerslie, KCerena and especially Belle Dean. Without her, I'm not sure I would have posted this. She is probably too awesome to be my pre-reader but she agreed.  
**

**The usual disclaimer applies, I don't own Twilight, and if you are uncomfortable with eating disorders, teenage sex, drug and alcohol use by minors, please move on from this mess.**

* * *

_Recap:_

_We were introduced to the world of the privileged New York high-school students in the beginning of their school-year, right after the summer. A mysterious blogger was writing strangely insightful things about Bella and her posse and the various people involved with them. We learned that Bella, who has been dating Jasper for years, has anxiety attacks, battles an eating disorder all the while being a desperate overachiever. She had a falling out with Jasper over him blowing her off in front of his friends and her friendship with BFF Tanya ended before the summer. Bella enlisted Jasper's best friend, Edward, to help her mend her relationship with Tanya, but that plan failed. We learned that Edward has a mild interest in Bella, mostly concerning the home-videos she makes for Jasper, but was most interested in being able to sleep with Tanya without actually having to date her._

_We also met Alice, new to this world, a 'fresh meat' from Seattle who is a little clueless. She made friends with future classmate Angela who introduces her to Eric and Victoria, good friends, and esteemed members of Bella's posse. They offered to introduce her to Queen Bee. Alice was wary but quite curious about the infamous Bella..._

* * *

**Alice Brandon**

_"Okay, let's get you to meet queen B." Eric winks at me then holds my hand, leading me to the wrought iron gate._

When we walk up to the entrance of Bella's house, surprisingly it's not locked. We stroll into a sort of entrance hall tiled with what appears to be marble. It has a freaking high ceiling and a _chandelier_ is hanging up there. But since it's so empty, it doesn't look tacky at all, though I kind of wish it would; in fact it definitely brings the wow factor. There are steps with black runner carpet, which lead to another wrought iron gate. Angela just rings the doorbell and we wait in silence. I hate the fact that I'm already getting intimidated. A plump woman who seems to be in her early 60's opens the door in a maid's uniform. She smiles at us, seemingly genuinely happy to see us, and she's so nice that I just want to hug her. God, I definitely need to find my inner bitch.

"Hello, kids. How are you?" she asks, still smiling.

"Hey, Matilda!" Eric says in a sing song voice, going to hug her immediately. We all murmur our 'hellos,' even Victoria, though none quite so enthusiastically as Eric did. "Oh my god, you look so skinny, did you lose weight over the summer?" Eric asks when he takes a step back. Matilda just laughs, playfully swatting her hand at him.

"I did try that Easy Mac diet. I think I lost a few pounds."

"I'll say." Eric beams at her. "You look gorgeous, I'm so glad to see you."

"I'm glad to see you too. Summer felt a bit monotonous without having you running amok around these parts. I'm happy to have you back, kids. And who might you be? I don't remember seeing you," she asks me, still smiling. I extend my hand to her and beam at her; she really seems nice.

"Hi, Matilda. I'm Alice Brandon. I just moved here from Seattle." Recognition seems to spark in her eyes as we shake hands. Oh, yeez, I bet she's heard about me too.

"Welcome, Alice. I hope I'll see more of you." We stand around and I inspect the space we are in now. I think it's the foyer. It has the same color of marble tiles all over and a high ceiling, but the decor is not kitschy like in Victoria's house. It's mostly modern and minimalist with a few antique chairs and paintings, with a freaking huge crystal chandelier in here too to contrast the stark minimalism, I assume. I don't know about the rest of the rooms because all of the doors are closed. "Would any of you like something to drink or eat?" Matilda asks.

"How about a gin and tonic?" Eric asks, smiling at her with wide eyes. Matilda just shakes her head. "Matilda makes the meanest martini," Eric says to me. "But her T&G's not bad either."

"It shames me that you would think I'd give you liquor, Eric." She looks at him disapprovingly but I think she's trying to hide a smile.

"C'mon, Matilda, some teeny bit of gin?" Victoria asks, batting her eyelashes. Matilda just sighs.

"Go up, kids. Bella's in her room and with all the shopping she's done, she'll be up there for a while."

"What about the gin and tonic?" Angela asks.

"I'll just have to surprise you, I guess," she says mischievously, leaving us in the foyer. Oookay. Is she really going to give us booze? That is seriously effed up.

"Okay gals, let's go." The staircase opens from the foyer; it curls around, with a square in the middle and if you look up you can see all the way to the top and there seems to be a window above. Or the roof is made of glass? I hear the marble clicking under Angela's and Victoria's heels as we walk up. Some of the pictures hanging on the wall are weird portraits that seem to actually look at you, and at the turn of the stairs there are even some statues. My spidey sense is tingling and it's telling me they did not come from Ikea. The place didn't look so spacious from the outside, or this tall. But to be honest, this is exactly what I imagined a 5th avenue mansion to look like on the inside. As much as I don't want to like anything that is associated with this Bella character, I could see my self living here.

W

e walk up to the fourth floor. Eric informs me that the second floor is kind of Bella's mom's, and so is the third, but apparently Bella has the entire fourth floor to herself. We reach a huge mahogany door; I assume this is her room. Eric seems totally at ease, but even he knocks before he opens it.

"Bella, honey, we're here," he says as we walk in. Bella is standing in front of a window, holding up a dress by the hanger. Maybe she wants to know if it's see-through in sunlight? Everyone walks up to her to say hi. Or to pay their respects, more like. "Bella, you look so skinny. Did you lose weight over the summer?" In his defense, this is the most convincing delivery of Eric's infamous line I've heard so far. She smiles at him a barely there smile, pursing her lips and shaking her head a little. "Honey, you look gorgeous. May I?" he asks, gesturing to the dress in her hand. She just sighs and hands it to him without looking at him again.

"Sure. I love it but I'm not sure I'll ever get to wear it. I've updated my wardrobe for fall and this just doesn't fit with the other things. We'll see, I guess," she says absentmindedly, before looking at me.

The first thing I notice about her is her skin. Her features are pretty but her skin is flawless, pale and perfect, like, literally no pores, no lines, no nothing. Just like a wax doll, with its expressionless, attractive features. She looks faultlessly put together; her hair, her makeup and her nails are all immaculate. I just stand there as she looks me over, studying me like I'm an object, with an empty expression but a sharp eye. I suddenly think about what she might see: no-n – d ame shoes, a handbag at least four seasons old,, my mismatching, orange cracked nail varnish, and a cute, but evidently unfashionable dress. Obviously, I don't expect her to try to look deeper and even if I did want to be friends with her after she's looked me over like she did, I doubt we could be. But what I hate most is that she actually makes me feel a bit shorter, and that I actually do feel a bit embarrassed by this Aryan airhead with a trust fund. This is exactly the sort of thing I promised myself I wouldn't let happen, yet here I am feeling self-conscious. Jeez. I need to get it together.

Just when the tension is getting to be too much, she looks me in the eye and smiles a warm smile that is actually less condescending than I expected it to be.

"Alice, I'm so happy to meet you. My name is Isabella Swann for short. Bella for even shorter," she says with her smile still in place. She's still looking me in the eyes, and it feels a bit like she's trying to get a read on me or something. "I'm sure we'll be great friends." I have to give it to her, she does sound genuine, but I'm sure she doesn't mean it.

"Hey," I croak nervously. "I'm Alice Brandon." Her smile gets wider, and I think I can see real amusement in her eyes, but she doesn't say anything. "Mh, you, so, you have a very beautiful house," I say, my voice jumping a few octaves in the end.

God, I suck. And in need of an inner pep talk, ASAP.

"Thank you. It can be kind of… overwhelming sometimes, but I like it too," she says, smiling at me. Then she turns back to her bed, which is covered with clothes as well as a few handbags and pairs of shoes. "So Alice, where are you from? I heard you are about to attend St. Forks?" She glances over her shoulder back at me.

"We tried grilling her, but she wouldn't spill," says Eric, still inspecting the orange dress which I'd think is not Bella's tone. But it could actually look pretty awesome on yours truly, but I keep this to myself.

"We just got sidetracked by Disney princes," I say, because we did.

"Ah, who doesn't love Disney princes," Bella says a little sarcastically. "I always had a soft spot for John Smith, but technically he wasn't a prince."

"Me too!" I shout, somehow pleased and surprised to find this in common with her.

"We all know you like 'em blond and lean, B," Eric quips in. Was Bella wearing blush just a minute ago? Hmm… I didn't notice it.

"I don't know. I always had a thing for Aladdin," Angela says, examining a handbag.

"I actually preferred the Genie," Bella says.

"I liked Prince Philippe from Sleeping Beauty," Victoria mumbles.

"Oh my god, Vic, he was totally boring," Eric says, exasperated.

"No, he wasn't. He was like a classical movie star from the 50's. Like Cary Grant or something," Vic argues back. "I also liked Hercules. He was adorable with all that stuttering."

"Wow, Alice," says Bella. "Just bring up the Disney princes if you want to get people off topic. I'll have to remember that." She smiles at me and shakes her head. We are quiet for a while, but then I resign myself to giving the info.

"I'm from Seattle. My mom met Caius when he tried to 'steal' a taxi from her. She almost punched him in the face," I say, giggling because it was funny. The way Bella raises her eyebrows and exchanges a look with Victoria – followed by a snicker on Victoria's part – tells me she doesn't think so. Bella catches me looking at them.

"Go on, Alice. Don't let Victoria's unfavorable opinion of my new purchases stop you," Bella says, holding up a random bag, prompting Victoria to let out another scoff. Whatever.

"So they met up every time he came to the city and after a year he asked my mom to move in with him. After some deliberating, she decided it was a good idea. So we moved here and Caius enrolled me in St. Forks. He never discussed it with me, but I think he talked about it with my mom. So here I am."

"Angela told me as much," Bella says, looking at Ang. "Do you like it here?"

"It's too early to tell," I say evasively. She looks at me, willing me to elaborate, no doubt. "I love the buzz, you can just feel this is _more_, people are so different; more bohemian somehow, and I like that. But it's so big; there are so many people all the time and sometimes when I go out that's suffocating. And I haven't made that many friends yet." Bella just looks at me and smiles.

"When I said I hope to be friends with you I was being genuine, Alice," she says, still smiling. "In fact, as my friend I expect you to come to me with whatever problems you have. I mean that. If you have any trouble, or anything that you want to talk about, please come to me. What you tell me will always remain between us. Everyone here can attest to that." I look around and everyone is nodding.

"It's true, honey," Eric says. "Bella is really trustworthy; she _can_ keep a secret. I don't know how, since she also loves gossip, but it's true." He winks at her. "Don't you, B?"

"I just like it as entertainment. The stuff people come up with… suffice to say if they channeled that creativity into something useful they would probably have no problem with AP English assignments."

"We would _always_ have a problem with English assignments," Victoria says, snickering.

Bella just smiles and sits down in one of the armchairs motioning me to another one, twirling a white lily in her hand. I go and sit. "I meant it, Alice. If someone comes to me in confidence, I will always try to help," she says in a subdued voice. "But if I have to hear things from someone else…" she trails off ominously. We are sitting in the armchairs while all the others seem to be immersed in various things, paying us no attention. "Then I will know I'm not really your friend. And you cannot ask me to treat you and your secrets like we actually are. Do you understand?" She asks in a totally friendly manner, asking if I understand with real curiosity, like people actually have a problem comprehending this. Was this a threat? I look at her and she still looks really friendly. I guess not, then.

"Yeah, of course."

"Good," she beams back at me, putting the lily in my hair.

Now that the quasi-friendly interrogation has ended, I take some time to look around. The room is kind of art-deco-y. Nothing like a teenager's room at all. The walls have some kind of silky blue wallpaper, and it's hard to find a surface not covered by framed drawings and aquarelles. On the far side of the room, in front of each of three French windows, there are marble stands with huge vases on top, all of them full of flowers, white lilies. On the other side of the room the windows are smaller and there is an antique desk with a laptop on it under one of them. All of the windows have open curtains that are deep blue. The space by the entrance is dominated by a huge, dark antique bookcase with glass doors and filled with books that don't look like contemporary literature from here. The furniture consists of a few armchairs along with a sofa and Angela's chaise lounge by the mantelpiece. On top of it there are these weird candleholders made of deer's antlers. Her bed is a tall, four poster bed with many, many pillows on top, and on the table next to her bed is a framed photo of her and a blond boy who should wear a number 10 fire hazard on his forehead, he's so hot. Gah, could this be her brother? Something tells me he isn't.

"Vicky, what do you think about this one?" Erick asks, snapping me out of it. He's holding up something to Victoria who just wrinkles her nose as if she smelled something bad.

"No way. Are you serious or did you develop temporary blindness?" she asks annoyed.

Bella just rolls her eyes and looks at me. "You have such a pretty face. I think you should cut your hair a little more to accentuate it. What do you think, Eric?"

"I totally agree. I think a pixie cut would look terrific on her. Like Rihanna's before she went all psycho."

"I kind of prefer it long. I've never had it shorter than shoulder length since I can remember," I say.

"Well, than how can you know? You should try new things. Do you cut your hair yourself?" Ouch. I mean, I didn't go to the hairdresser who did al the hockey mom's hair and charged 300 dollars ass cut, but I didn't cut it _myself_.

"Ehm, no. I went to a hairdresser in Seattle."

"Just because it's so nondescript. It's not straight, but I wouldn't say it's layered either. There are a few traces of highlights, but they are mostly grown out. What did you ask him to do?" Eric asks, inspecting my hair while everyone is looking at me apprehensively. Oh, shit. I think once I told the person who did my hair that I wanted it to be like Keira Knightley's. I even brought a picture, but it turned out so shitty that I never ever did that again.

"I kind of went with what they thought was best. I just told them the length I wanted." Most of the time they had a hard time getting that right, so I doubt something complicated like hair color would've been a reasonable request.

"_They_?" Eric asks absolutely shocked. "How many hairdressers did you have?"

"Well, I kind of always went with whoever was available the day I went," I croak nervously. It looks like they find this beyond outrageous. "What?" I ask finally.

"It's just… how could you trust your _hair's_ wellbeing… to some random… person? It is one of, if not _the_ most important feature you have. It can always be seen and has a huge part in how people see you. It's your _hair_." He is looking at me dumbstruck with a strand of my hair still in his hand looking like he is about to cry.

"It doesn't have such a _huge_ part in how people see me," I say, but I'm not sure I mean it.

"Oh, really? If you needed help with tax returns would you ask a platinum blond bed head to help you out or a brunette with a bun? And how would you feel if the dean had long greasy hair with outgrown pink dye? I know people think they are above the messaging with hair, but the truth is, no one is," Victoria says condescendingly, like it should be obvious that your most important feature is your hair. Geez.

"C'mon Vic, there's no need to be bitchy," says Bella, smiling. "Alice, I'm sure once you experience Massimo, and the magic he works on your scalp, you will understand what all the fuss is about. Hair is important, and if you ever find a good hairdresser, hold on to him until the bitter end. Some women say they are harder to find than good husbands. Ang, would you please call him and secure an appointment for Alice? I think he's working this Sunday, but I'm not sure. Maybe he can squeeze in an emergency session." I open my mouth to protest, I'm not sure I can afford a $400 haircut without using the dreaded black Amex. "Don't worry, it's on me."

Angela saunters off to make the phone call to Massimo the magician. I'm kind of curious but I also feel uncomfortable about Bella footing the bill for what must be a very expensive session. Does this make me owe her? It shouldn't, since I didn't ask for her to do this, but I can't help feeling like it does.

"Oh, by the way, have you seen Lauren's new hair extensions?" asks Eric.

Bella just rolls her eyes and scoffs. "I've heard that a scarecrow's pubes were stolen one night in Kansas and you know as soon as I saw that thing on her head the mystery was solved."

"It's _horrible_! And she says she wants her own clothing line when she's walking around with the leftover hairs collected at the bottom of the sink stuck to her head."

"I know. It's kind of ironic. Okay, I am in total indecision about what bag to take to school." Bella says. "It's one of the only things not regulated by uniform, so a good choice is crucial," she explains to me. "What kind will you use?" She looks at me questioningly, like she really thinks I have anything to add on this issue.

"I don't really know. I have a knapsack that I like," I say apprehensively.

"Oh," she says impassively. "I'm kind of undecided between the Classic Prada Nappa tote and the deerskin black Miu Miu tote. I also have one in white, but meh, I can't have a white bag for school." She goes to her closet and saunters out with the two said bags. They are both oh so gorgeous, either would make my soul fill with unearthly joy.

"I like the Miu Miu better. Massimo's in LA and he's coming back on Friday, by the way, Bella," Angela says walking back inside. "He says that's the earliest he can take Alice, but knows someone who would love to take her tomorrow."

"What do you say, Alice?" Bella asks. "Would you prefer to wait for Massimo's magic or take someone else instead?" Is this a test?

"I'll wait for Massimo," I say, because if he's that good, I figure I'd rather.

"Excellent." Bella smiles at me. "By the way, I like the Miu Miu too, but Prada is just more formal and sophisticated, you know? Do you think the ostrich tote would be inappropriate for school?" She looks up wondering.

"The Prada one, or the Bottega Veneta?" Eric asks.

"The Prada, of course. I wouldn't use a Bottega Veneta bag for school." Bella scoffs.

"I don't know. What about the Proenza Schouler ones? They are sold out everywhere. Can I see yours?" Eric asks, hopefully.

"Yeah, sure," Bella says dismissively. "I think they are there with the new ones. But they are too casual for school though. Did you notice that all Mulberry is doing nowadays is just copying what they do?"

"Of course. And Proenza is still way better," says Victoria.

"I can't believe they can make bags this petty, when their shoes are so ugly. Those shoes look like the designers were locked in a shed and told they had to make do with what they found in there. It's hopeless. And sad," Eric says returning with the bags, like it really is sad.

"Louboutin is making handbags as well, even though people just tell him not to bother," adds Angela.

"What about that Yves Saint Laurent bag you got from Stefano?" Eric asks.

"It's totally not for school. Plus everyone has already seen it. I need something new and statement-worthy for first day. Alice, what do you think?" Bella asks, turning to me.

"I like the Prada better." Actually, I'm not sure there is that much difference; both are perfect and non-school-appropriate, in my opinion, but I really don't feel like voicing that right now.

"Okay." Bella beams at me. "I love it too, actually. What kind do you have?"

"Of what?"

"Of Prada bag."

"I don't have one."

"Oh. But they are so minimalist and perfect. Everyone should have one. This season's bags are really perfect; they went back to their roots and all. It was a good decision. Eric, can you get me the satchel type? Please." Eric goes and gets out a beautiful black bag which is much softer, a bit bigger and doesn't have a form as rigid as the bag Bella wants to take to school. It's more casual and of course I love it. How could I not? I'm a girl and this is such a pretty bag. "What do you think?" Bella asks.

"I love it," I say, looking at it reverently. It's so perfect, and you can just see that this is some superior quality stuff, with perfect stitches, a beautiful design and leather that must be so freaking smooth to the touch. I look up and notice that Bella is studying me with that same sharp eye.

"I think you should have it," she says looking at me dead in the eye.

"No," I say, blurting out because I really cannot accept this. I feel everyone's eyes on me and it's making me feel uncomfortable. I know that this is not a cheap knick, and it doesn't look used at all. I doubt she carried it even once.

"I want you to have it. It's good enough for school, and you've never had a Prada bag. I'm glad I could be the one to give you your first one. It's like a rite of passage. This type is sold out in New York already, right, Eric?" she asks without taking her eyes off me.

"I think so, yeah. I think they might still have it in Long Island, but I'm not sure about the-"

"Thank you," says Bella interrupting him. "I really want you to have it. I think it's perfect for you. Try it on. You can always give it back if you don't like it." I touch it and god, it feels just as perfect as it looks. The devil's handbag. I put in on my shoulder and I think god meant it to end up there all along. I could definitely fit a few books into it, not that I could ever disgrace this pretty lady that way. "There. Consider it an indefinite loan." I feel elated about the prospect but I can't help but wonder if she's for real. And I also have this nagging suspicion that… maybe this is not completely out of the goodness of her heart.

"I'm not sure I can accept this," I say warily, not wanting to turn her offer down because I'm kind of think that she might have some ulterior motives but also because… I really, really like that bag.

"I insist," she says, beaming at me.

"Thanks so much, Bella," I say to her. We are interrupted by Matilda bringing us drinks, something different for everyone apparently. I get something creamy with strawberry that tastes just like orgasm in my mouth. Ew, that doesn't sound right. But it is very good even though it doesn't have alcohol.

"There you are kids. I hope you can help Bella deal with her handbags; heaven knows I don't know what she needs so many for."

"Don't worry, Matilda, I've got it under control," says Bella, smiling at her with a bit of teenage annoyance, making her seem the most relatable she's been since I've met her. Matilda just chuckles.

"Okay, kids, are you hungry? I can probably make you something if you feel like eating. Bella, aren't you hungry?"

"No. I had a huge brunch with the girls," she says, smiling back at Matilda. "I'm still stuffed. We'll go out to have dinner in any case, so don't bother."

"Okay, okay. Are you sure, kids? We have some Laudrée macaroons too. And I can always make finger sandwiches." We all just nod along, until Angela announces she indeed wants the macaroons. We are sorting though clothes, and I'm still holding on to my handbag, loving it and being afraid of it at the same time. Matilda comes back with macaroons _and_ finger sandwiches, plus a refill of the drinks. The others are all laughing, and I think that I might be the only one who has a non-alcoholic drink. Well, me and Bella. She doesn't have anything to drink but water.

I sit down on the lounge chair and read Nylon (there were also several auction catalogues here, which is kind of confusing) while Eric, Vic and Bella debate clothing issues that are way beyond my knowledge of fashion. And I like clothes. Now they are having some issue with a headband, in fact several of them if I understand correctly. Bella is standing in a skirt and bra deliberating between two shirts, because apparently their tailoring is different. I think I can make out the difference, but I don't understand why she just doesn't go with the tighter one. I know I would. Angela bobs her head to the beat of her iPod while munching on an occasional macaroon or finger sandwich and reading Vogue; ; I do the same. That is, until the door suddenly opens and a boy who looks exactly like Tom fucking Sturridge, all tall, pale, dark haired and hot, bursts into the room without knocking. I swear to god the temperature goes up at least 10 degrees. He is dressed smartly and I can already feel that even if my chastity wasn't a thing of the past, it would definitely not last long around here if all the boys at St. Forks have this kind of radioactive heat rolling off of them. No wonder Victoria had a busy summer.

"Bella, I see you were expecting me," he says, kind of leering at Bella, who's still between shirts, with a naughty smile.

"Tyler," she snaps. "What the hell are you doing here? Who let you in?" _This_ is Tyler. No wonder Victoria went all gaga over him. Bella grabs one of the shirts, buttoning it up swiftly, and her face is as red as a fire truck. So her blush wasn't fake but the real thing. That's kind of funny.

Tyler just walks over to me with a confident swagger in his step. He takes a macaroon from the coffee table and pops it into his mouth, winking at me. I think I'm about to melt off the chair. Holy smokes this guy is danger with a capital D.

"It was Matilda, but don't blame her. Can't I visit my future ex-wife?" he says, looking up at her from behind his lashes. Bella just rolls her eyes.

"Wait, I'll be out in a sec," she says, walking back into the closet and slamming the door behind her. The rest of us stand dumbstruck, while Tyler drops himself onto the divan next to me with ease.

"Hey," he says, looking at me with an intensity that makes me flush. Jeyzus, I need to hold myself back from jumping him right here and now. I think I'm breathing faster_. God, please let me not make an idiot of myself just this once._ I hear a throat clearing and it breaks me out of my Tyler-induced reverie.

"Hey, Vicky," he says, looking up at her with an amused smile. "Is your throat still sore, Vicky?" he asks mischievously. _What_? I think I hear Angela snorting, but she turns it into an unconvincing cough, hiding behind her magazine.

"I think I'm feeling sick," Vic says. "I'm going to go get some water," she says to Eric with an angry expression,

"You should definitely go down, then," Tyler says while Eric leaves with Vic and I'm left alone with Ang and Tyler, who makes me want to do bad, bad things. What's in the water here?

"Who are you?" he asks with a smile, looking at me like I'm the only one he sees. Gah, I know he's a player, but I definitely want to play. Provided it's with him. It's not like I'd sleep with him, but a bit of flirting never hurt anyone.

"I'm Alice."

"Hey, Alice. How is it possible that I've never seen you before? Are you visiting Bella?"

"No, I'm new in school." He just smiles and I think I'm in love.

"I'm happy to meet you," he says in a deep voice, looking intensely into my eyes. When the tension gets too much, and I just laugh and he does too. But it's a good kind of laugh, and he looks so much like a carefree little boy when he's laughing. But then looks back at me and I can feel the same tension again. The one that makes me want him so bad.

"Tyler," Bella snaps like she's speaking to a naughty dog. Naughty indeed. No tender feelings between these two. What was up with that future ex-wife comment? "Where's Victoria?"

"She didn't feel well."

"Okay." She just sighs. "I'll give you that brochure that you wanted. I think it's in my mom's study, just come with me." When Bella turns her back and starts walking toward the door he leans to me and whispers in my ear.

"Tell them that you need to leave. I'll take you." Wow. I think I just suffered an aneurism. I don't think either Bella or Angela noticed. And I definitely do need to leave. I promised my mom a movie tonight after all. I giggle internally. I keep on pretending to read with Angela when all I want to do is squeal and jump around like a preteen bimbo when Justin Beiber replies to her tweet.

"I don't think you should go with him," Angela says, but before I can ask what she means Victoria bursts into the room, her eyes zeroing in on me like a hawk. She looks around for Tom – okay, I know his name is Tyler, but damn, they look so much alike – and seems relieved to find him gone.

"Where is he?" she asks, sounding a lot calmer than she looks.

"I think he went with Bella or something," I say. She sits down next to me. Close. Obviously it's not because she feels the need to protect me from the big bad wolf. She wants the wolf all to herself. Eric comes back with a bottle of Tanqueray, a bottle of tonic and a few glasses.

"We have reservations for tonight at Butter. You're gonna love it. We might even run into some celebrities," he gushes, mixing the gin and tonic. "Want some?" he asks, like it's totally normal to raid the liquor stash in your friend's house. Maybe it is.

"Just a little."

"Here you go," he says, handing the glass over to me.

"By the way, I don't think I can make it to dinner," I say, slurping it down. "I promised my mom I would go to the movies with her tonight."

"Oh, no, sweetie. You can't miss it," says Eric with a pouty face. "You can go with your mom whenever you want, but this will be a fantabulous event. You'll regret it if you don't go."

"Yeah, I think you'll regret it. Are you sure your mom wouldn't be happier if you came with us?" asks Angela, looking into my eyes with a pointed glare.

"No, I don't think so," I say with conviction.

"You know, I could always ask my driver to take you home if it's that important," says Victoria, looking at me ominously.

"Tell Igor to stay put, Vicky," says Tyler, walking back into the room with the same confident stride. "I already told Alice I'd help her out."

"I'm sure you did." I hear Victoria mumble under her breath with narrowed eyes and a saccharine smile.

"I'm a good Samaritan, what can I say. Now, ladies, if you'll excuse us, I have places to get to. Chop-chop, Alice." He looks a bit annoyed but I catch him winking at me. I get the Prada and my old bag and say bye to everyone. We exit the room and nobody calls Tyler out on what he did, but I think Angela might know what we're up to. I still feel like it would be a really douchey move to leave without saying goodbye to Bella. She did give me a handbag that probably cost well over a grand, and the least I can do is say bye. Plus she was nice, even if a bit weird at times.

"I'll just say bye to Bella," I say as we walk down the steps. The staircase is a bit darker; it must be about 5 or 6 now.

"Don't worry, she-" But Bella is coming up the stairs just as we are walking down.

"It's too bad that you had to leave so early, Alice," she says, looking at me with those same penetrating laser eyes. "Please text me as soon as you get home," she says, but she's looking at Tyler. We exchange numbers and I promise to text her as soon as I arrive home. We say bye and she walks up the stairs with her head held high. Tyler looks after her for a beat too long then looks at me and smiles that same knee-weakening smile.

"Let's go, Alice." We walk out the door and a black car is already there in front of the house. He opens the door for me and waits until I get in. When he gets in, he flashes that same boyish smirk and I'm so glad I left with him. "Where do you want me to take you?" he asks in a voice that's deep and smooth, and loaded with innuendo to my horny-pervy ears. Jeez, I need to get a hold of myself.

"I'm not even sure…" I stammer. "It was a spur of the moment thing, I don't usually do this."

"What?" he asks, looking me intently.

"Like… ride in cars with boys. God, that sounds retarded. I mean with, like, virtual strangers in big black cars. Hot strangers that I only know… sketchy but not so good things about." There is a silence, and though he keeps looking at me, it feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on us; it seems like maybe I've ruined our moment.

"Do you honestly trust _Victoria_?" he asks finally with amusement and incredulity in his eyes. He gets out a packet of cigarettes and lights up, shaking his head a little. Jeez, does everyone smoke here? "Well, if it makes you feel weird, I can take you home. Where do you live?" Suddenly I feel like an idiot for believing Victoria. I mean, it's clear that Tyler didn't really want to hang out with her, and he's been totally nice to me so far.

"I don't really. I mean, trust her. It's just that… I don't even know. But I want to go somewhere with you." He smiles a little.

"Do you really want to?"

"I do. It's just… I would feel a bit better if I heard your version of things." I feel so incredibly awkward for asking this. It's not like this is a date. I mean, maybe it is? It feels like it is, kind of.

"Her ability to translate my lack of interest in her into me being a manwhore, and to convince anyone who'll listen that it's true, is remarkable. That's all there is to it, Alice." The way he says my name makes me tingle. His eyes are dark and hungry; they never look away. I always get too shy and just have to look away, even though it's the last thing I want. "So, it's about dinner time. How about we have some dinner and you can see for yourself if Vicious Vicky was right about me?" He winks, holding his cigarette between his thumb and his pointer finger when he takes it out of his mouth. Shit, shit, shit, _shit_. _That_ is my Achilles heel. I'm done for when a guy does that. Could he possibly know? "So?"

I'm distracted by looking at his mouth but when he asks my eyes snap up. He smiles and exhales.

"Okay."

"Good. Do you like French cuisine? I'm in the mood for _foie gras_."

"I do." I think so anyway. I'm kind of afraid he'll take me to an upscale place where they have a dozen pieces of silverware for one setting, but the place is bohemian and cozy with lots of pictures, and every free space is covered by wine-racks and shelves with wine bottles on them. I love it; it has little lamps on each table which give the place a friendly glow and it seems totally relaxed. We get a table by the window and interestingly enough, for the first time since I've moved here, I'm doing most of the talking. And he _listens_. Even though there is a strange kind of gravity pulling me to look into his eyes, I always have to look away after a while. It's just too much. I think I might just blush.

This is definitely a date. There is a nagging feeling in the back of my head what Angela said about slutty boys, but… this feels so right and the way he is treating me… I can't help but feel like this is meaningful somehow, and that he probably feels it too. I'll just have to take it slow but my intuition has always been spot on before.

He orders in French and I ask him to order for me too, just so I can look at his mouth and hear him talking in French. I can't help but imagine him dirty-talking to me in the same language, and I melt just a little more. He orders me some kind of salad with raspberries and shrimps as a starter, and fish as a main course. It's really good and I think I might even moan a little as I eat, not that I would ever admit to that.

"So, has Bella given you the _cosa nostra _speech yet?"

"What speech?" I ask, totally confused.

"The godfather speech. The one about 'if you're not with us you're against us'. Kind of an inauguration speech."

"No, not really," I say, drinking a bit more of my coke. "Wait, what was that stuff about her being your future ex-wife?"

"Just something to piss off her boyfriend," he says dismissively, with a naughty smirk. I talk about my school and I even tell him about my summer. He doesn't really laugh, only smiles, but it's so beautiful and sexy that it's enough. He says his driver is off for the day and he thinks we should walk rather than take a taxi, and I agree. He's so attentive and chivalrous; he makes me feel like a freaking princess. I don't want the night to end.

I feel cold and he gives me his blazer. I feel slightly drunk, though we didn't have anything to drink at the restaurant and I only had a sip of that G&T. I just feel so special and beautiful right now. I drag him by his hand into a playground we pass by. I jump into the swing and ask him to push me, so he does. After a while he stops and walks in front of me. He just watches me while he smokes, never taking his eyes off me, while the swing slows down. The only sounds are my slightly exhilarated breaths and the creaking of the swing. As I sway back and forth, watching him, the tension that I've felt since the first moment I saw him escalates and it's just too much. Before I can think, I jump off the swing and I walk to him. I put my hands around his neck and get on my tiptoes. He's still watching me and my lips are almost there, but still not quite. I don't know why I'm waiting, maybe it's just for him to show me that he feels it too and wants the same thing I do. He exhales, blowing on my neck and it seems that my last bit of hesitation disappears.

I crush my lips to his, and it's strong and all-consuming, it feels so right. His response is instantaneous. His tongue is rough when it enters my mouth, but it's gentle when it collides with my tongue, teasing it to life with gentle pulsing flicks. He smells of cigarettes and something that is fresh but musky at the same time, and his mouth tastes like white wine and tobacco, bitter but sweet. I run my hands lower over his muscular back, and it's so hard and defined that I want to push my fingers deeper into him, leaving marks. I hold onto him for dear life and push myself closer and closer, but it's still not enough. His hands land on my waist and slide down to my ass, grabbing it roughly. I break away, gasping for air, but he just moves down to my neck and keeps on kissing me. I think I've died and gone to heaven. I'm making sounds that I'm not sure I'd ever willingly admit to. But I'm past caring now.

"Let's take this somewhere else, shall we?" he asks, breathing into my ear. I just nod. I vaguely recall that I made myself a promise, that there is something I should remember, but I don't want to think it through. I want him so bad. He calls a taxi while I keep on kissing up and down his yummy-smelling neck, wondering why we have to take it elsewhere; I like it here just fine.

We have the most indecent taxi ride known to man and I enjoy the shit out of it, but I'm even hornier when we get out at some hotel. It's really fancy, and while he's nibbling my neck in the elevator, my mind a blur, I text my mom that I'm gonna spend the night at Angela's place. I get a reply but since I can't be bothered to read it, I just switch the phone off. He opens the door of the suite and I feel like the luckiest girl ever as I hear the door click shut behind us.

But that sound also snaps me out of this lusty fog clouding my mind. I promised myself I wouldn't do this. Not tonight. I might not be a virgin, but I don't sleep around like this. The throbbing between my legs begs to differ, tough. Tyler pushes me up against the wall, his lips molding to mine, and he's moving his hands slowly but steadily below my dress. I sigh into his mouth and push his hand away.

"What is it?" he coos quietly into my ear. "I thought you said you wanted to…" He snickers into my ear, and the air he exhales onto my neck makes me shiver "…see if I was as tough as I looked. I'm up for the challenge, Alice," he says, grinding his pelvis into mine.

"It's not that," I say, sliding away from him, and walking up to the window. The lights are still off and I like the way this darkness envelops us. I feel safer. "I just…" He walks up behind me and it's like he's about to touch me, but he doesn't. "I'm not sure I should do this, you know. But I like you a lot and it feels…" I can feel his heat behind me and the ghost of his fingertips on my arms. I can almost sense his lips on my neck, but it's only his breath; he still won't touch me for some reason, and it's driving me crazy. I lean back into him without ever giving my body the permission to do so.

"How does it feel, Alice?" he asks, and his lips are almost on my neck and his hands are down on my hips, touching me and leisurely gathering up my dress, making me ache for him to touch my skin. "Tell me how it feels."

"Uhm… it feels… God, it feels good," I say, whimpering like a pathetic wounded kitten. He does this annoying, yet incredibly arousing thing where he will be so close to my neck he almost touches it, but no, I can only feel his lips ghosting there.

I whimper and push myself back into him, and he finally gives in and mumbles. "_Tu veux que__je te baise, hein_?"

I moan so loud it's embarrassing. "What did you say?" I ask.

"_Tu aimerais bien le savoir, hein_?" he snickers.

I just grind back into him and it feels really good. I can feel his dick on my ass as he grabs my hips forcefully and tugs me closer. He moans and my mind is clouded with him and that achy moistness between my legs. All I can think about are images of him touching me there, watching my reflection in the window while he does, surrendering to him, letting him do what he wants.

My nipples harden and I want him to touch them. I don't want him to be gentle. I want him to tug on them, suck on them and pinch them with his teeth while looking at me. The image provokes another rush of wetness between my legs and I grab onto his gorgeous head of hair, pulling him down to my face and kissing him savagely. I know what I need; promises I made to myself seem silly now.

He smiles into the kiss and trails his hand up my to my breast, doing that annoying almost touching thing again. I thrust my torso into his hand and he moans, grabbing my breast roughly and kneading it in his hand in rhythm with his tongue thrusting into my mouth. I trail my right hand down to where his hand is on my hip, and slide it down to my pathetically wet panties.

"Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers, Alice?" I answer with a whimper and another rush of wetness seeps out of my already soaking pussy. "I will, if that's what you want. But you'll have to bend over that chair first."

I moan and nod. I walk over to the big armchair by the fireplace and just as I'm about to bend over he says, "Take off your clothes." So, I do, without hesitation, just wanting him to do it already. I yank the dress over my head and remove my matching light blue panties and bra. As the cool air of the room hits my flushed, sweat-m-moistened skin I feel my nipples pebble up, wanting to be touched greedily and roughly. I've never really done anything like this with a man I barely know and maybe I should be shy but my mind can't get over that dull throbbing between my legs.

I lean down, over the armchair, completely exposed, vulnerable, and wet, mortified by how much this excites me. I feel the cold leather on my face and my nipples when I get into position. I hear him walk up behind me with slow, measured steps echoing on the floor. He stops somewhere close by, but I have no idea if it's close enough. I feel two fingers ghosting down my spine, and then they're gone. I moan out.

"_Tu as un joli cul_, Alice," he whispers into my ear, grabbing onto my ass, making me bite my lip. Then he slowly puts two fingers between my legs, only touching my pussy lips with the slightest pressure. "Do you want me to fuck you with these, Alice?" he asks, toying with me. He takes my moan as a yes. He coats his fingers with my wetness and touches my clit so quietly I wonder if he ever touched it at all. Then he circles it lightly and my knees buckle, pushing my pelvis down into his hand.

"Stop fucking teasing," I hiss. He doesn't hesitate, plunging two fingers deep inside of me, making me cry out a loud, porny moan. He's hovering over me with his hand still working on my pussy, massaging my clit in tandem with his fingers working in and out of me at a pace that is almost fast enough. I'm panting and breathless already, feeling that tense knot grow tighter and tighter. I'm starting to get lost to the feeling when he picks me up like I'm weightless and sits me on the edge of the armchair, pushing my legs apart.

He's down between my legs and taking my nipple into his mouth as he thrusts his fingers back inside, making me whimper and arch my back. He looks at me with smoldering eyes while he pumps his fingers. The only sounds are his wet fingers sliding in and out of me and my moan-infused panting.

"_Tu es une bonne petite salope, _Alice," he says as he leans his head down slowly between my legs, maintaining eye contact. I see his tongue peek out of his mouth before he gently flicks my clit. I jump a little, and with a groan I thrust my pelvis out at him farther. He teases me with his little flicks, making me sound like a porn star with my whimpered pleas before putting his mouth around my clit and sucking it. He's gentle at first, timing his sucking with his fingers thrusting in and out, but the sucking gets stronger and stronger and I'm closer and closer to the edge. Pushing my hips harder onto his face, finally grabbing onto his hair and grinding up and down on his face.

I feel that tense knot coil tighter and tighter in my belly, and I move my body frenetically. I just want to get there already. Then he curls his fingers upwards as he grazes my clit with his teeth, and I fall over the edge. I'm arching my back and moaning out my orgasm and god, it's never been like this before, and I wish it was his dick inside of me.

I lean back in the armchair panting while Tyler attacks my nipples again, kneading one with his hand while sucking on the other; rolling it between his teeth before coming up to kiss me.

"We're not done yet, Alice." No. We're not.

* * *

"Wow, I didn't know that was possible." He's lying next to me with the pillow propped up behind his head. I turn toward him and gaze at his profile while he gets another cigarette from somewhere and lights up. God, he's hot.

"It is."

"I mean, I never actually had one while the guy was inside me. Like, I was told it takes years of practice to make that happen." He smiles lazily at me and offers me a cigarette. I just shake my head no. I try to cuddle with him, but he kind of pushes me away. "But we have all night for you to prove this wasn't some fluke of nature," I say, propping myself up on my elbow next to him. I smile and trail my hand down his arm. He just inhales from his cigarette and lets it out with a heavy sigh.

"Actually, we don't."

"What?"

"Sorry, we don't. I'm expecting my girlfriend tonight. I think we'll have to reschedule, Alice." I just freeze for a moment. My brain needs some time to fully process this.

"But… you didn't tell me you had a girlfriend," I say, still frozen in the same position.

"You never asked," he says, smiling apologetically. "It's nothing against you Alice, I would love to stay, really. Maybe I can even get her to agree, if you're in, so you could join us." The same smile that made my knees weak just a few hours ago now makes me nauseous. "I'll just call her, okay?"

"No, don't. I'm not interested," I say, turning away.

"Too bad." He gets up and starts collecting his clothes, and I can't help but notice how confident and brazen he is without them. "I'll have to leave now, but you're welcome to stay here until 10 AM. You can get something from room service if you like, but remember that the room is under my father's name. Nathaniel Crowley." He closes the door of the bathroom and I remain there in the bed naked and, well… fucked. In more ways than one, as Angela so aptly put it. I didn't exactly expect a proposal, but… I thought we actually had… something. That maybe he liked me.

I wonder who his girlfriend is, though the thought makes my stomach churn. He exits the bathroom looking disheveled but still hot. I'm kind of disgusted I still find him so attractive. I want to crawl under a rock right now.

Shit. There's no way I'm staying here for the night.

Tyler comes over to me and leans down, probably to give me a kiss, but I just turn away and tell him to leave.

"Bye Alice. We'll see each other soon," he says, smirking. I don't look at him and when I hear the door click shut, I know he's gone. My eyes get teary, and I scramble looking around for my phone. There are texts from my mom; she's worried because she can't reach Angela or me. I don't think I can talk to her, so I send her a text that everything is fine, we were just watching a movie and that we're preparing to go to bed. She asks me not to do this again, and to call her in the morning as soon as I wake up. I text her back that I will. I wait for her reply, but it doesn't come. She must have gone to sleep already.

I have to get out of this bed; the sheets smell like me and him, a combination that I would have liked just a minute ago, but not I really can't take being in these sheets naked any longer.

I get dressed and leave the room as quickly as humanly possible. I try calling Angela several times, but she's switched her phone off. I try to think of someone else I might be able to call, but I can't think of anyone. I'm scrolling feebly through my address book when my eyes land on one entry: _Bella_. I deliberate. I'm not sure I want to call her; in fact, I think this is a bad idea.

_You don't have the card to the room; you can't go back now_.

I don't even have Tyler's number, but it would have to be a cold day in hell before I'd ever willingly speak to him again. Before I can convince myself that this will be the stupidest thing I've done since getting into that car with Tyler, I hit call.

"Alice, are you home yet?" she asks. Shit, I promised her I'd call.

"Ehm… No, not really. Bella… I kind of…" Deep breath, "I need your help." There's a pause at the end of the line and it doesn't feel reassuring. It feels like she's judging me.

"Where are you?"

"At the…" I scramble around for anything that will tell me where I am. The elevator arrives and I look around inside for something that would reveal where I'm at.

"You're at the Carlyle," she says as though this is somehow obvious. "Just come out, I'll collect you from the front entrance in fifteen." I nod, and then I realize she can't see me.

"Okay," I say in a small voice. I walk outside and stand by the entrance, shivering a little. I should've brought a coat or something. I try desperately to think about anything but what just happened, with very little success. I've never had a one-night stand before - I've only had sex with my ex - plus… I don't know… I thought he kind of liked me.

God, I'm stupid. And a slut too. He has a _girlfriend_. On the plus side, if he has a girlfriend, at least he won't be telling anyone. I hope she's a harpy who would tear off his nuts with her bare hands, stuff them up his nose and let him bleed out if she ever found him cheating. That would be incentive enough to keep quiet about this. But somehow I doubt that will be the case.

After a while a dark car pulls to a stop in front. The back window lowers and it's Bella. She's looking around. I wave at her, a bit relieved even though I'm still not sure she was the right person to call. Nothing against her, but she doesn't exactly radiate warmth. She nods and motions me over. I feel positively mortified. The closer I get to the car, the harder it is to look into her eyes. I open the door on the other side and get in.

"Hi," I say quietly.

"We can go back home now, Laszlo. Hey, Alice. Did you have a nice evening?" Is she kidding?

"Not really," I say. "I mean, I know I told you I'd go home but that isn't really… what I did." I'm still looking out the window, avoiding eye contact with her. The pause is a beat too long before she speaks.

"I see."

"I'm sorry. I just… didn't know how to… and… I don't know." I look at her, and she is watching me with those eyes that seem to see right through me and know more about me than I do. After scrutinizing me sufficiently, she looks away.

"Well, I would've warned you to stay away. You should've told me, Alice. I want you to trust me," she says in a matter of fact voice that leaves no doubt that I _will_ trust her. Considering all she's done for me, I guess I do. Or should, anyway. "You probably told your mom you'd stay at Angela's, right?" She doesn't look at me as she asks.

"Yes."

"It's okay. You can stay at my place, I'll text Matilda to set up a room on the guest floor." _Guest floor._ Jesus.

We sit in silence as I watch the city lights go by. "Who's Tyler's girlfriend?" I ask, disrupting the silence.

"Excuse me?"

"Who's Tyler's girlfriend?" I ask louder, even though it pains me to think of the skinny rich bitch who's probably his official girlfriend.

"Oh." I look at her and she is reclined back in her seat, staring ahead. "He doesn't have one."

"But… he said he… had to go and meet her," I say incredulously.

"Trust me, I'd know if he did. He doesn't have one."

"Oh." I want to disappear, or just cuddle up with a tub of ice cream in my PJ's to watch Moulin Rouge so badly right now. My throat gets uncomfortably tight, almost painful. I can't cry here; I'll wait until I get to the guest floor. We arrive and the driver opens the door for Bella. I get out after her. We walk in and she turns to me with a smile. It actually seems a little sympathetic.

"What kind of ice cream would you like?" Can she read minds or what?

"Ehm… what kind do you have?"

"My mom is the loneliest woman in Manhattan; we have most Hagen-Daaz and Ben & Jerry's flavors."

"I like Chunkey Monkey," I say, because I do. She smiles at me, and it seems like she approves.

"We can sleep in tomorrow and watch something in the projection room tonight," she says. Maybe she's not that weird. I guess she can be nice.

"Do you have Moulin Rouge?" I ask.

"Of course we do. Who doesn't love a spectacular spectacular?"

That night Bella even tells me a bit about her summer and her boyfriend, Jasper, who likes to cook and plays polo. That sounds a bit gay, but by the look of his photo, he can also make you tingle all over and make your panties moist just by looking at you. That must be his saving grace. I devour a whole carton of Chunkey Monkey. She says it's because she hates ice cream. I find that very hard to believe. I even joke with her a little. She's not so bad actually, definitely trustworthy, I decide.

By the end of the night, I might even like her and I do trust her. I trust her a lot.

* * *

**If you're looking for something to read, try Teenage Dreams by Belle Dean. You won't regret it.**

**I know I probably don't deserve it, but I some reviews would be lovely. And you quite possibly know this, but it's an awesome incentive to keep on writing.**


End file.
